


We Stand Just a Little Too Close

by walkingsaladshooter



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (Sexy Tags To Be Added When The Smut Chapter Drops), (That They Don't Know Is Pining Because They're Idiots And I Love Them), A Tiny Bit of Angst Re: Pining, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Author-Typical Food Porn, Bottoming From the Top: The Ben Solo Story, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Does It Count As Dirty Talk If It's More Adorable Than Dirty, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Conflicted Masturbation, Established Friendship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fake Dating For Revenge, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Mutal Pining, Naked Cuddling, Oral Sex, Pillow Talk, Pining, Real First Kiss, Sharing a Bed, Shenanigans, Smut, Totally Platonic Ass-Grabbing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Woman on Top, obnoxious pda, safe sex, what could go wrong?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:34:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23122576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkingsaladshooter/pseuds/walkingsaladshooter
Summary: Benjamin Chewbacca Soloare you asking me to fake date youas revengeAn established friendship, fake dating, friends-to-lovers Reylo modern AU. Welcome to the tropefest.
Relationships: Rey & Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 335
Kudos: 1067





	1. People are talkin', talkin' 'bout people

**Author's Note:**

> If you ask me what I love, the list includes: super emotionally intimate best friends, friends-to-lovers, fake dating, mutual pining, "I didn't know I had feelings," banter, and shenanigans. So of course I smashed them all together in one fic.
> 
> I like to say that this fic came to me in a dream. On a redeye bus back home from seeing TROS in Chicago, I woke up at 6am with "Something to Talk About" stuck in my head and thought, "Hot damn, this would make an amazing fic." It's a tropefest up to and including the smut-in-the-last-chapter structure (so pace yourselves, my friends, the banging will come in time). I love it and I hope you do too.
> 
> Forever thanks to [crossingwinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter) for the beta-read, the endless yelling about these two dumdums, and all the friendship <3 <3 <3

“Not to be all gender-reductionist at you,” Poe says, waving his hand vaguely in Rey’s general direction, “but there’s no way you and Solo are just friends.”

Rey rolls her eyes so hard she’s a bit shocked they don’t fall out of her skull. “We’ve been over this, Poe.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the tune. _ Ben and I are best friends. We’re very emotionally intimate but it’s entirely platonic. _ ”

“I do not sound like that.”

“You sound a little like that,” Finn adds, unhelpfully.

Rey does not deign to answer, choosing instead to suck the remnants of apple juice out of her juice box until the straw burbles empty on the bottom of the box.

“You’re all assholes,” Ben grumbles from where he lies on the blanket. “I’m right here.”

Rey pats his hair soothingly. “They’re just jealous of our friendship. And rude. Your nose might be broken.”

“His nose isn’t broken.”

“Rose threw that frisbee _ hard. _ ”

“She’s little,” Ben says, “but mighty.”

Rey clucks her tongue and hands him a fresh bundle of ice from the cooler wrapped in her handkerchief. “Here. The one you have is too melted.” He places the fresh ice pack on his face with a muffled  _ thank you _ and closes his eyes again.

When she turns back around, Poe is staring at her with an expression somewhere between triumph and suspicion. “You’re just proving my point, Rey. Do you see any of the rest of us changing Solo’s ice pack?”

“No, because you’re all brutes with no sense of sympathy.”

Finn shakes his head. “Or maybe we know Ben was goading Rose and it’s no wonder she whacked him like that. Even if it was an accident.”

“Was it, though?” Ben says.

“To be fair, you _ were  _ goading.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side, Rey.”

“I am, but I also have half a brain. You were goading. You were getting Skywalker-cocky just because you can throw the farthest, which is only because you’re the tallest. You tree,” she finishes, rather fondly.

Her best friend makes a noise of irritation, but it’s blended too much with both his own fondness and the pain throbbing through his nasal bone to be all that intimidating.

“Who’s driving us all home, then?” Finn asks. He’s watching the rest of their friends still going at it out on the grass with the frisbee. “Paige can take some of us, but not all of us.”

“I can still drive,” Ben says. “Just give me time to lie here dying first.”

He sounds so dour Rey can’t help but laugh. “Maybe most of us should go with Paige, though. She lives closer to Finn and I than you do. If you just take Poe, you’ll be able to get home sooner.” She nudges his foot with hers. “Since you refuse to go to the ER.”

“And pay thousands of dollars for some ibuprofen and gauze? No thank you. My nose is already jacked up as it is. I can’t be fucked to care if it heals straight.”

“It’s not broken,” Poe says. He sounds distracted now. Rey spares him a glance—he’s watching Paige tackle Kaydel, her shorts riding up and exposing the length of her thighs. Like he’s one to talk about non-platonic friendships.

The summer air is warm, even here under the shade of the tree, and now that Rey has finished her lunch, she’s steadily growing sleepier. She shifts back onto her elbows, stretching her legs out off the blanket into the grass, and tips back her head, closing her eyes. Dappled sunlight plays over her face, flashes of red through her eyelids. She can hear Rose and Paige and Kaydel yelling as they toss the frisbee. On the blanket with her, Finn and Poe are chatting now about some concert they want to go to. Ben is quiet beside her, but she can feel his warmth radiating off him and onto her forearm.

It’s nice, being happy.

“Are you turning into a pumpkin already?”

Rey blinks open her eyes—her lids a bit heavy—and turns her head towards Ben. He’s lowered the ice pack and is watching her. “Maybe a little.”

“It’s only two o’clock, Rey.”

“I know. But I’ve been up since two this morning, and it’s warm, and I’m full of pasta salad.” She closes her eyes again, lying down fully alongside him and folding her hands on her stomach. “I have a right to sleepiness.”

Finn reaches over and absently pats her elbow. He’s good at that: listening to more than one person at once. She briefly squeezes his hand before he withdraws it.

“Hey Poe,” Ben calls across Rey. “Why don’t you insist Rey and Finn are secretly fucking?”

Poe Dameron never misses a beat. “Because they don’t do things like lingeringly stare into each others’ eyes.”

Finn snorts. Rey smiles and shakes her head. Her eyes still closed, she murmurs to Ben, “He’s just jealous he can’t have entire conversations with his eyes.” Ben makes a soft noise of assent, and that’s all she remembers before she dozes off.  
  
  
  
———  
  
  
  


It’s five o’clock and Rey is barely awake, curled up on the sofa with her head on her arms and blinking sleepily at the DVD menu screen looping on the television, when Finn sits down next to her. “You gonna make it?”

“I’m trying,” she mumbles. “Tomorrow’s my day off. I want to stay up late.”

“Mm, seven p.m., so very late.”

“Shush, Finn. I missed my nap today.”

He passes her a lemon bar, and she takes a grateful bite. It’s almost as delicious as when she pulled it out of the oven at six o’clock this morning.

“Poe has a point, you know.”

She groans. “God, not this again.”

Finn gestures between them, careful of the lemon bar in his hand. “You and me, we’re close. We were best friends til you met him—”

“Are best friends,” Rey corrects, hauling herself up to sitting. “You and Ben are both my best friends.”

“But you’ve got that thing with him. The whole telepathic bond thing. And like, Rey, we’re affectionate”—he’s not wrong, they sit right up next to each other on movie nights like now—“but the way you two touch each other is…” Rey waits for him to find the word he wants. “Intimate.”

She chews her bite of lemon bar slowly before answering. “That doesn’t mean we’re secretly having sex.”

“I’m just saying. Poe’s not being an ass. Well—okay, he is, because he’s Poe. But he’s not just being an ass.”

Shaking her head, Rey stretches out her legs, resting her heels on the coffee table. “Ben and I aren’t secretly dating, Finn. I don’t date. You know that.”

“Yeah, yeah. But if you did—”

“Finn?” Rey smiles at him sweetly. “Shut up and turn on  _ Scream. _ ”

To her relief, he humors her.

It’s not like any of this is new. Rey met Ben almost three years ago, through Poe, who she’d met through Finn, who was her first real friend after a very long string of years of deliberate self-isolation. She’s better about that now (aside from her love life—dating is still too much, too vulnerable, too primed for rejections and disappointments she can’t bear, so she firmly keeps romantic interludes to the occasional one-or-two-night-stand variety). And Finn was a huge part of that process of learning to open up. But so was Ben.

Ben, who from the moment they met, seemed to see straight through her bullshit and not give her any passes on it, but instead drew honesty out of her with a strangely gentle determination that left her feeling raw and vulnerable in a way she somehow didn’t hate. Ben, who could hide nothing from her either, because from the start she could read every emotion on his face, even though everyone else claimed he hid his emotions well, but he didn’t, not if you paid attention, not if you looked in his eyes. Ben, who just—understood her. Saw her. Held a space for her to fall into pieces and somehow, her mind would lie quiet, unafraid that he’d run for the hills after seeing what a mess she is.

Even with Finn, whom she loves with her entire heart, Rey still has walls. But Ben so easily plucked out the bottom-most brick right at the start. There’ve been no walls between them ever since.

Which apparently leads to mannerisms that have always convinced their friends they’re secretly fucking.

Which is ridiculous. Not the idea of fucking Ben in and of itself—he’s good-looking, Rey will own to that—but that, if she was sleeping with him, she would hide it. Rey’s always been reasonably candid about her sex life. Sharing details isn’t her thing, but she’s never hidden when she’s seeing someone. What reason would she have to be coy about it if it were Ben?

But it’s not, and never has been. What they have—it’s beyond that.

“How did this happen?” she had asked him, once, early in their friendship. They were walking down by the river, back when Rey and Finn lived in a shitty little apartment over a garage across the Monongahela from Kennywood. It was late, and they were across the railroad tracks, and the lights on the river actually made it look pretty at night like this.

He had just shrugged. “Maybe we’re soulmates.”

“Do you actually think soulmates are real?”

And then he’d smiled down at her. “No clue. But if they are, you’re mine.”

Which from anyone else would sound cheesy, or like some kind of pick-up line. But from Ben, it was just… honest. Sincere. If a little dry in the delivery, but that’s just Ben.

So her frustration with their friends’ teasing (and his frustration, too, because they both get tired of it) is twofold.

First: it feels, somehow, like they’re trying to cheapen the—at risk of sounding unbearably sappy—the purity of her closeness with Ben.

And second: It’s just plain annoying.

Like how Poe constantly refers to Ben as “your boyfriend” when talking to Rey, or Rey as “your girlfriend” when talking to Ben. Or how Rose wolf-whistles if Ben sits on the floor in front of Rey’s spot on the couch and she plays with his hair. Or how Finn always feels the need to raise his eyebrows at her if she happens to give the first piece of whatever baked goodies she’s brought to any gathering to Ben. It’s just childish and annoying.

(Also, Finn isn’t one to talk, and they’re all hypocrites, because sometimes she and Finn hold hands, and nobody makes a fuss about that.)

Sometimes, though. Sometimes, it actually pisses Rey off.

Like the time at trivia night when Rey was definitely not okay but kept insisting she was fine. Ben finally pulled her aside with a huff. They were talking in low voices in the corner, standing close, and Ben was just telling her with gentle but intense eyes, “You’re an expert at bullshitting yourself, but don’t bullshit me. Talk to me,” when Nix deemed it necessary to holler “Hey lovebirds, next round’s starting!” across the entire fucking bar.

Or at their celebration cookout when Paige graduated with her veterinary degree. As the afternoon ran into the evening, a lot of people, not just Rey and Ben, split off into twos and threes of conversation. They were sitting on the bench swing in Paige’s little back garden, talking about Ben’s uncle. Which he barely talks about, even with Rey, because it’s still so hard and so painful. And fucking Poe had waltzed up to them and taken a picture on his phone, winking and saying, “You’ll want to show this one to your kids someday.”

Ben nearly throttled Poe over that, and Rey nearly let him.

It got old a long time ago, and really, it was only a matter of time before the straw broke the camel’s back.

The straw, unsurprisingly, comes in the form of Poe Dameron. The thing is, Poe’s really smart and capable and good at getting shit done when he needs to. It’s why he’s such a good program director and also why he’s usually the one to spearhead organizing group activities. But there’s some twelve-year-old part of him that’s never gotten over ribbing his friends at any given chance like the little shit he is.

“Do you want any oatmeal raisin?” Rey asks as she’s filling a box with a dozen assorted cookies for Poe. It’s eight o’clock in the morning, entirely too early for anything sweet in her opinion, but Poe apparently wants to treat his team today when he gets to work. And she knows he likes oatmeal raisin.

“Nah, not this time. I’m gonna drop some off with your boyfriend. You know he hates oatmeal.”

And for whatever reason—the teasing way he lilts over the word _ boyfriend  _ or the sarcastic smirk at the corner of his mouth or the fact that since Rey got to the bakery five hours ago she’s burned her forearm twice and fucked up an entire batch of croissants—whatever the reason, she’s absolutely had it.

The smile she gives Poe is the tight-lined smile of _ you’re very lucky we’re in my place of work right now so I don’t krav maga you to the floor. _ But all she says is “All right, then,” and she rings him up.

The second—the _ second _ —Jannah is back from her break, Rey all but sprints back into the kitchen and digs her phone out of her bag.

_ if one of our friends gives me shit one more time  
_ _ I stg Ben  
_ _ I'm this close to going feral _

**Ben** 🌵  
_ Aren’t you always feral?  
_ _ But I know what you mean. It’s far past old. _

Rey scrunches up her mouth, half-irritated and half-thinking, as she leans back against one of the fridge doors.

_ we should teach them a lesson  
_ _ somehow  
_ _ I don’t know how but  
_ _ jfc _

He doesn’t respond to that one right away. Rey sighs and sinks into her break chair, grabbing one of her soggy, woefully unlaminated croissants (because they may have turned out abysmal and unsellable, but Rey will eat every damn one rather than waste them) and wondering if there even is anything they could do to wreak their revenge.

When she glances at her phone again, the three dots on Ben’s side of the screen dance, then disappear, then dance, then disappear.

She smiles a little.

_ Ben?  
_ _ quit overthinking and just send it _

She can easily imagine his self-effacing smirk, the shake of his head. This time, when the text-in-progress dots appear, they actually lead to a response.

**Ben** 🌵  
_ I was just wondering. They think it’s hilarious that we’re apparently Almost Dating, but how sick of it would they get if we were Actually Dating? They think it’s funny now, but I guarantee you, if we were making out in front of them, they’d be disgusted and beg us to break up. _

_ Benjamin Chewbacca Solo  
_ _ are you asking me to fake date you  
_ _ as revenge _

**Ben** 🌵  
_ If you’re comfortable with it.  
_ _ On the stipulation that obnoxious PDA is a requirement.  
_ _ You don’t have to actually make out with me, but extremely sappy lingering eye contact and sitting in laps would probably be enough to turn some stomachs. _

Rey is already laughing to herself. This is perfect. She can imagine the shit-eating grin wiped off Poe’s face, replaced by horror.

_ oh you don’t have to convince me  
_ _ I’m in  
_ _ but if we’re doing this we’re doing this  
_ _ I will 100% make out with you for revenge and torment _

It takes Ben a minute to respond—which makes sense, she knows his work shift starts around now. But after a moment, it comes through.

**Ben** 🌵  
_ Then let’s give them something to talk about. _

  
  


———

  
  


Normally, when Rey gets out of work around one o’clock, she goes straight home for her customary afternoon nap. Even an hour cozied up on the couch is enough for her to bounce back for the rest of the day until normal person bedtime hours.

But today she goes straight to Ben’s gym, coffees in tow.

He’s working at the desk today rather than manning the climbing wall, and one-thirty on a Tuesday isn’t their busiest time, so Rey hops up on the counter, passes him a coffee, and says, “Okay, let’s plan this.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “If Phasma sees you sitting up there, she’s going to kick my ass.”

“Well, you can kick her ass right back.” Rey takes a long drink of her coffee, eyelids fluttering shut. She’s not the only one at their cafe who makes good product. The coffee is delicious, too.

“Right.” Hearing his deadpan, she glances over at him with a smirk. “I figure if we suddenly tell everyone we’re dating and launch right into heavy PDA, nobody’s going to buy it.”

“Really? They’ve been teasing us forever.”

Ben shakes his head. “I think it’s more believable if we pretend it’s creeping up on us. Maybe for a week or so, we can…” He circles his hands, searching for the right words. “Create some tension between us. Really lean into lingering glances and stuff. Act a little different around each other.”

“And then,” Rey says, catching his drift, “when we come out and say we’re together, it’ll look like we actually went through the process of catching feelings.”

“Exactly. More believable.” He takes a sip of coffee. “Because if we’re going to be as obnoxious as we want to, we need to make sure they can’t tell it’s all farce.”

She nods. “So when do we start?”

“Right away? No point in putting it off.” He pauses, drumming his fingers on the counter. “Poe mentioned Paige is thinking of having a cookout on Saturday. We could do the big reveal then.”

“I can be kind of mopey at home with Finn,” Rey suggests. “And be cagey about it if he asks what’s wrong.”

“That’s good. I’ll see if I can get Poe out for drinks one night this week. I can make sure we get you to come along and we can lay it on a little more.”

“How about I come hang out with you on Friday night?” she says. “If we announce we’re dating on Saturday, we’d need to be alone some time before then to make that decision. We can say that’s when it happened.”

He smirks. “You’re too good at this.”

“I’m a crafty hellion. What can I say.”

“Okay.” Ben pulls out his phone. “I’ll text Poe and figure out a night that works.”

Rey grins. “This is going to be the best thing we’ve ever done. I can’t wait to make them squirm.”

  
  
———

“You okay, Rey?” Finn bumps her shoulder with his as they walk up to the bar. “You’ve been quiet the past couple days.”

She shrugs, biting her lip so she doesn’t smirk. It’s working. “I’m alright. I’ve just been… thinking about some things.” Glancing up, she sees the concern in his face. It’s sweet. She smiles, easily and gently. “I promise I’m fine. I just want to figure it out a bit more before I talk about it.”

He hugs her to his side with one arm. “Just don’t forget you can talk to me about anything.”

“I promise, I won’t.”

They step inside to the cooler, dimmer bar. Poe and Ben are already at a booth back in the corner. Finn waves.

Rey takes a deep breath. It’s the first time she and Ben have hung out since Tuesday—though they’ve been steadily texting further details of their plan ( _ we have to use pet names around rose,  _ Rey told him,  _ she thinks they’re cringey; I think we should thank Poe for teasing us while we’re making out,  _ Ben says,  _ so he knows he has no one but himself to blame _ ). And clearly Finn is buying her fake moping. But now’s the first test of their performances.

It’s been… a long time since Rey had a crush. She’s deliberately squashed down that part of her heart. But she’s pretty sure she remembers how it feels.

She glances at Ben as they walk up, but only in flickers. Doesn’t let her eyes linger on him, but doesn’t stop looking.

Out of the corner of her eye, she thinks maybe Poe clocks it, but she can’t be sure.

Sliding into the booth, she ends up on the outside, across from Ben. Perfect.

He looks up at her for the first time since they came in. “Hey, Rey.”

She slips a small smile. “Hi.”

“Apps are half off,” Finn says, nudging her elbow as he looks down at the menu card. “Nachos?”

“A double order. I’m starving.”

“Better have some nachos before you get a drink, then,” Ben says lightly. He glances up at her, but his head is down, so his hair’s falling in his eyes. It looks almost shy. Damn, he’s good at this. “Alcohol on an empty stomach is a terrible idea. You’re such a lightweight.”

“I am not.”

“Yes you are. I once had to carry you out of Kaydel’s house after two glasses of wine.”

Rey bites back the urge to banter back. She shouldn’t be bantering. She can’t make herself blush, but she lowers her eyes and presses her lips together, deliberately summoning the (admittedly hazy) memory of her head against Ben’s broad chest, his strong arms holding her up. “There were extenuating circumstances,” she says, but with a little less sass than she normally would, and makes a show of examining the cocktail menu even though she knows she’s just going to get a beer if anything.

She’s pretty sure Finn and Poe exchange a look. She has to hold back a grin.

Not wanting to lay it on too thick too early, Rey lets herself relax a bit after that. Once all four of them fall into conversation, she leans back in the booth and acts more herself. After all, she’s supposed to be trying to not be obvious.

She notices Ben pepper in moments here and there. When his foot brushes hers under the table, he jerks it back and is suddenly very interested in the label on his beer bottle. Once, when she’s smiling and teasing Poe about something inane, she catches him staring at her mouth.

He’s really good at this.

When the nachos arrive—both orders, because she wasn’t kidding about being hungry—she scoops up the absolute most perfect nacho, a good-sized chip with just enough of everything on it, and holds it out to Ben. “Here. This one’s got extra jalapeños.” When Ben accepts it, she does her best not to let their fingers brush against each other, but she does watch his mouth when he shoves the entire thing in.

God, his mouth really is huge.

Rey waits just a beat too long, then darts her gaze back down to the plate of nachos, picking an almost-as-good one for herself. 

“You okay there, Solo?”

When she looks back up, Poe has his chin in his hand and is giving Ben a very significant look.

Ben’s cheeks are flushed. “These are spicier than usual,” he says, a little defensively.

“Mm hm.”

Rey rolls her eyes. “Please tell me you’re not implying what I think you’re implying, Poe.”

“I’m just saying, you did just practically feed him—”

“For the millionth time, we’re not secretly fucking.”

They had planned this part. They knew someone—either Finn or Poe, but probably Poe—would tease at some point. Rey would shoot it down like always, and then Ben would look a little hurt instead of joining her. Still, even having planned it, her heart isn’t quite ready for the way his face falls.

He’s staring intently at his hands for a long moment. Then he shrugs one shoulder and says, “Be right back,” and heads off to the bathroom.

Rey watches him go, her brow furrowed. It’s not hard to fake the concern. She hates seeing him looking hurt, even though she knows it’s all for show.

When she turns her attention back to the table, Finn looks almost—sorry?

“What was that about?” she asks.

The two of them look at each other, but don’t really answer her.

Perfect.

“I think he had a shit day or something.” Poe’s expression softens. “Could you go talk to him, Rey? I didn’t mean to actually be an ass.”

“Yes you did,” she says, but lightly. “Okay. Be back in a few.”

She feels them watching her go when she makes her way back to the hallway where the bathrooms are, then ducks around the corner.

When Ben comes out of the bathroom, Rey grins at him. “They sent me after you.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “They didn’t.”

“They did. I think it’s working.”

Ben shoves his hands in his pockets. “Good. This makes tomorrow night more believable.”

“I can’t wait to see Poe’s stupid face on Saturday. Do you think we can render him actually speechless?”

“That,” Ben says, closing his eyes, “would be the fulfillment of my greatest dream.”

Rey can’t help but laugh.

After a few minutes they go back to the booth and keep it fairly even-keeled the rest of the evening. Glances here and there, but nothing too significant.

Finn is quiet on the way home. Once they’re inside the apartment, he turns a curious gaze on her. “Rey?”

“Yeah?”

“Is something going on with you and Solo?”

She lets herself hesitate just half a second. “You mean when he got weird and we talked?” She shakes her head. “Everything’s okay. He was just too much in his head, you know?”

“All right.” The way his eyebrows are raised tells her he doesn’t fully believe her, but also, this isn’t exactly the first time Ben and Rey have slipped off together to talk through something in the middle of a social event. Still, it gives her a little rush of glee to know Finn’s getting curious.

“I promise,” she says, “everything’s fine. Goodnight, Finn.”

She knows he’ll be up a bit longer, so she takes her time in the bathroom, brushing her teeth and washing her face and changing into her pajamas. By the time she leaves and crosses the hall to the bedroom, she can see the glow of his computer monitor around the corner in the living room.

Rey doesn’t bother turning on the light. The soft illumination from the nightlight is enough for her to see by as she crosses Finn’s side of the room to her own, crawling into bed. (They’d managed to find a pretty nice place, but only by splitting a one-bedroom. Their bedroom is set up dorm-style, with two twin beds and a firm “if you’re gonna fuck, go to the other person’s place” rule.) Once she’s curled up under the covers, she sends Ben a quick text.

_ when do you get off work tomorrow? _

**Ben** 🌵  
_ 4:00 _

_ can I come over around 5?  
_ _ I have work on saturday morning so I don’t want to be out too late  
_ _ confessing my love for you _

**Ben** 🌵  
_ Ha ha ha.  
_ _ 5:00 is fine. I can make us dinner. _

_ 👍  
_ _ thanks for being my partner in crime _

**Ben** 🌵  
_ Anytime, Rey. _


	2. They think we're lovers kept under covers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, we're going to alternate POV. Do you think I'd write these shenanigan without getting in Ben's head? I think not. Revel in his denial, dear readers. Revel in it.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to my wonderful beta [crossingwinter](http://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter), who I know loved this chapter if her keyboard smashes are anything to go by, and to Chekhov's kitchen smooch. ( ͡° ͜ ʖ ͡° )

The thing about Ben Solo is that, while he’s not a _ complete  _ idiot, and while he’s a perfectly intelligent person thank you very much, he’s also a Skywalker. And if there’s one truth in this godforsaken world, it’s that Skywalkers—especially Skywalker men—are absolute dumbasses.

Agreeing to Rey’s revenge plan is a perfect intersection of “I’m not a complete idiot” and “lord have mercy on me, a dumbass.”

Because he’s not in love with Rey anymore. He was, for a while, when they were first friends. He’s pretty sure nobody can blame him. But he also found out early on that Rey doesn’t date, doesn’t do romance. (It took a few weeks before he found out why—the abandonment issues, courtesy of her parents, that have never quite gone away—although apparently most of her friends, even Finn, didn’t find out those details until several months into a friendship, which does something to him that one might refer to as  _ warming his heart,  _ though he’d never say that out loud.)

And so knowing asking her out wasn’t even an option—well. He loved her, as he loves her now, as a complete person, not just a potential girlfriend. He loves who she is, not what she could be to him. So he understood their relationship would always be platonic, though no less close and special for that.

And it was fine. Time passed, and his love for her settled to match her love for him. Strong, deep, and intimate, but not romantic.

So it’s not going to be an issue, pretending to be dating, making out with her in front of all their friends. Hell, if there’s anyone he could trust to do this with and not have it end up weird and friendship-ruining, it’s Rey. He’s not worried about it.

But because he’s a Skywalker man, he probably should be worried about it. Especially since he’s also a Solo man, which means, no matter how much he denies it to the world at large, he’s always one pretty pair of eyes and sharp-tongued quip away from turning into a lovesick puppy.

_ But,  _ because he’s both a Skywalker and a Solo, his stubbornness is consequently doubled, so he’s very firmly Not Going To Let It Become A Problem.

So there’s no reason for him to feel nervous when Friday rolls around.

Any time Ben cooks for Rey, he doubles the recipe. She has a horrible habit of forgetting to eat breakfast, nibbling on things during her break at the cafe, then falling on whatever poor dish is her dinner with the ferocity of a half-starved feral thing. There’s a lot behind that, which she’s aware of but doesn’t do the best job properly unpacking. Ben tries to remind her to eat more regularly, but when all else fails, he’ll always give her extra helpings of dinner.

And make it nutritious. Because god knows she’d live on cereal and peanut butter if left to her own devices.

Stir-fry is always a good option. He can cram complex carbs, proteins, and a whole host of vegetables and their various vitamins and minerals into a stir-fry.

So he’s sweating over the wok when she buzzes at the door of his building.

Keeping half an eye on the stove, he strides over, buzzes her in, and hurries back to keep stirring. A couple minutes pass before he hears the front door open and she calls, “Honey, I’m home!”

“I’m not your honey yet,” he calls back. “I have that on the schedule at seven-thirty.”

“How romantic.” Rey drifts into the kitchen, slumping into one of the chairs at the table. “That smells so good.”

“To be fair, you’re easy to impress.” He flashes her a smirk, then switches off the heat. He scoops rice into a wide bowl, then dumps an extra-generous portion of veggies and tofu in sauce over the top and holds it out to her. Her eyes flash with excitement when she takes it and tucks right in while he makes his own portion.

“I still can’t believe you actually own a wok,” she says, except her mouth is full, so it sounds more like “Ahsil cabbawee you akshweeow a wok.”

“That’s hot,” Ben deadpans. “This is exactly why I’m desperate to date you.”

She kicks him under the table, grinning.

“Rey, who would I be if I wasn’t a snob about my cookware?”

“A shadow of yourself.”

“Exactly. So what are you going to tell Finn when you get home tonight?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean, if this really happened, I’d probably tell him right away. But we need to do the big reveal at Paige’s if we want maximum effect.”

“Which we do.”

“Mmhm. I might just try to slip in straight to bed and blame it on getting up early tomorrow.”

She’s slowed down a little with the stir-fry, after the first few ravenous bites. Ben watches her, the way her mouth closes around her fork, the way she shimmies her shoulders in a happy little dance when she finds the food delicious.

He really, really fucking loves her.

“We should probably plan what we want to do,” he says. “Obnoxious PDA-wise.”

“Mm!” Rey nods, hurries to finish chewing her bite. “So I was thinking we could show up separately. And when we both get there, bam! We just make out.”

Ben bites his tongue. “Fuck—just like that?”

“Just like that. And then I can smile sheepishly”—she does, very cutely—”and say, Oh yes, by the way, Ben and I actually are dating now.”

He rubs the tip of his tongue against the inside of his cheek, soothing the sore spot. “Um. What else?”

“C’mon, Ben, your ideas have been as good as mine so far. Don’t make me plan this all on my own.”

He thinks. Now that it’s becoming real and less theoretical, that worry is beginning to bubble in the back of his mind.  _ Are you sure you’re not going to make an idiot of yourself?  _ But he ignores it. “You can sit on my lap,” he offers. “We can ignore people and just stare at each other. I could—” He clears his throat. “If it would be okay with you, I could just kind of… rest my hand on your ass.”

Her face lights up. “That’s a good idea! Oh god, you know how couples will stand together and put their hands in the other person’s back pockets? We should do that.”

Ben nods. “Okay. Making out, lap sitting, goofy gazing, ass touching.”

“We can play the rest by ear.” She grins. “Just make sure to act like you’re stupidly in love with me.”

No problem, he thinks, even as he smirks in return. I already know how that feels.

They’re just finishing washing up the dinner dishes when Rey grabs his elbow. “Do you want to practice?” she asks.

“Practice?”

“Kissing?” She blushes a little. “Not to be awkward, but—we don’t want it to be awkward tomorrow. If we get the initial weirdness out of our systems, we’ll probably be more convincing.”

His mouth is very dry, suddenly. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Rey nods, determination filling her eyes. “Okay.” And without warning, preamble, or fanfare, she reaches up, grabs his face, and kisses him full on the mouth.

It’s not a deep kiss. Just a pressing of lips. She pulls back after a few seconds. But Ben’s pulse has quickened way too much.

Rey shrugs, smiling. “See? Not so bad.”

“No,” he echoes. “Not so bad.”

“Okay, let’s try with a little lip action.”

She pulls him in again, though this time he meets her halfway. There’s no tongues involved, but their lips part against each other, moving soft and smooth. Rey’s lips are so warm and Ben’s hands clench into fists at his sides.

“Jeez.” Rey grins up at him when she pulls away again. “You’re not half bad, Solo.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Neither are you.”

“I know this is weird. But thank you. I already feel better.”

“Anything you need, Rey. You know that.”

She waggles her eyebrows at him. “Tongue, then?”

“Is that necessary, do you think?” He’s proud of himself, that his voice sounds normal.

“Depends how hard we want to make out around everyone else. Personally, I want to make Poe wish he’d never been born. Just a little. Tongue is probably required for that.”

“Okay.” Ben nods, wiping his palms on his pants. “Just… straight into it?”

“I guess?” Rey reaches up one hand, cupping it behind his neck, and as she rises to meet him her eyelids are fluttering closed and her lips are parting and Ben digs his nails into his palms to resist the urge to grab her waist as her tongue slips in against his.

Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ She tastes like soy sauce and her kiss is slow and smooth and Ben never fucking thought they’d be doing this, but if they did, he never fucking thought it would be under these circumstances.

It’s okay that his pulse has quickened, that his breath is a little short. She’s a good kisser. Bodies respond to stimulus. He just needs to be a level-headed human being, not a fucking dramatic Skywalker, and not ascribe meaning to it that isn’t there.

And Rey—laughs, pulling away. “Oh my god,” she breathes. “You’re a really good kisser, Ben. Why has nobody told me this?”

“I’ve never kissed one of our friends,” he says, a bit stupidly.

“That was rhetorical.” She grins, smacking his chest lightly. “You  _ dog. _ ”

“Yes, I’m a veritable Casanova.”

She laughs again. “Okay, turn around.”

“Uh, Rey?”

“Turn. Around.”

Heart beating in his throat, he does, because at the end of the day, he can never tell her no.

“Okay. I’m gonna touch your ass, alright?”

“Why, exactly?” His voice pitches high and he winces.

“Same reason we kissed. To get the awkwardness out of the way. You okay with that?”

“Yes.”

“Cool.”

And then—then her hands are on his ass. Not in a sexy way at all, just sort of groping around. Getting the lay of the land. Desensitizing both of them, in theory.

Rey is your best friend, he tells himself as her fingertips dig a bit painfully into the underside of his buttcheeks. The first person in years who really listened to you. The reason any of your other friends besides Poe can even remotely stand you. The one who sees through your bullshit and won’t let you get away with it.

For the love of god, get a grip.

“Okay,” she says, her hands disappearing. “Now you do me.”

“Rey, I don’t think—”

“Come on, Ben.” Her voice sounds more distant. He turns back around and sees she’s turned her back to him. “Just do it. We need to be natural.”

He sighs, stepping in a little closer. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told. Grope me, Solo.”

“And they say romance is dead.”

She laughs, and he reaches down and gently cups her ass. It should be illegal for his hands to cover this much of her. He sort of… pats around, not quite squeezing. “There. Can we be done now?”

When Rey turns to face him again, it’s with a small smile. “Hey. I know this is awkward. But thanks.” She shrugs, glancing down. “I was getting a little nervous. I’m pretty committed to this bit, but I haven’t… I haven’t really done romance before. Not even pretend. And now I’m not as worried about it.”

He can’t help but smirk in reply. “Ah yes. The deeply romantic art of ass-grabbing.”

“Shut up. You know what I mean.”

And Ben nods. “I do.” I really, really do.

She squints at him a bit. “Are you okay? Did I—was that too much?”

And because it’s Rey, because he can tell her anything, he sighs, runs a hand through his hair, and says, “Sort of. But sort of not. It’s just been a long time since anyone touched me—”

“I touch you all the time.”

“—since anyone touched me that way.” He gestures vaguely at his own person. “Bodies, y’know, respond. It’s just a little weird. Not unpleasant. But weird.”

Rey bites her lip and nods. “Yeah. Me too. But, that’s fine, you know? If we get a little worked up when we’re being obnoxious?” She flushes a little and shrugs. “Like you said. Bodies respond.”

Having her acknowledge it, too, eases something in his chest. He reaches out and pulls her into a hug, their usual, familiar kind of hug, and she nuzzles against his chest like he’s a giant teddy bear. “If there’s anyone I could be friends-with-benefits with and not entirely fuck up our friendship, it would be you. So I think we’ll be fine.”

He feels her nod. Then she says, a bit haltingly, “We’re not, though. Right? We’re not going to actually have sex?”

“Oh god no. Sorry. Just—similar things.”

“Ben.” She pulls away, grinning, and reaches up to tap his nose. “Relax. I was just clarifying.”

He half-smiles. “In three years, have you known me to ever relax?”

“Occasionally.” And Rey holds out her hand. “What do you say? Dating?”

And his smirk blooms into a true smile as he takes her hand and shakes it. “Dating.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the first occurrence of "bodies respond." ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )
> 
> P.S. Don't be afraid to come say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/nuanceismyjam), [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/nuanceismyjam), or [Tumblr](http://nuanceismyjam.tumblr.com/)! (Which I use in that order, in terms of frequency.)


	3. Let's give them something to talk about

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fake-dating-for-revenge is the most fun thing I've ever written in my life, thank you goodnight.
> 
> Thanks as ever to [crossingwinter](http://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter) for the beta!

When Rey wakes up from her post-work nap on Saturday, feeling a bit sticky and bleary-eyed, and shuffles her way to the bathroom for a shower, it takes her well until she’s under the water to remember what she’s getting up to tonight. She grins, scrubbing old sweat off her freckled skin.

There are multiple reasons to be excited. First of all, Paige’s cookouts are always fun. There’s reliably good food, and her backyard, small though it is in the middle of the city, is like a pretty oasis. Second of all, at some point in the evening, she’ll get to exact sweet, sweet revenge for nearly three years of incessant teasing and nosy questions. And third, she’ll get to kiss Ben.

It’s not that it’s Ben—though she loves him very much—but it’s been a good while now since Rey’s gotten a little affection herself. It was really nice last night, kissing him, even though they were just silly, awkward practice kisses. It feels so nice to be held, to have attention and gentle touches showered on you. It’ll be fun.

All things considered, she’s made much worse decisions in her life.

Once she’s dressed and ready, she heads out to Paige’s. It’s a two-bus trip from Highland Park to Paige’s place in Point Breeze, and she kind of wants to get there a little early and help set up. She’s bringing a blackberry pie and a small pile of her lemon bars, so she may as well help with the rest of it, too.

Rose is the only one who’s showed up by the time Rey knocks on Paige’s door. “Come on in,” Paige says with a smile, leading Rey through the compact but clean and comfortable living room and back into the bright kitchen. The curtains are pulled to the sides, sunlight streaming in over the white counter-tops and buttercup-yellow cabinets—which could easily be garish, but Paige has managed to decorate around them quite well—and Rose is squeezing lemons.

“Hey, Rey! Ooh, is that pie?”

“Blackberry.” Rey sets her goods on the counter and turns to Rose, brushing her hands against her hips. “Want help?”

“Yes please. My fingers are starting to cramp.”

They finish squeezing lemons through a sieve, stirring the juice together with water and just enough sugar. Paige checks the various items to be grilled, rotating them in their marinades in the fridge, with the level of focus one usually saves for things like surgery and astrophysics. Kaydel and Jannah arrive together, bearing an armful each of fresh ears of corn still wrapped up in the silks and husks; they all start slicing vegetables for a hummus platter when Finn shows up, towing what Rey can only call a vat of potato salad.

Rey smiles, her hair falling down across her face as she slices peppers.

She likes when they’re all together like this. Even if she’s the last one to have been integrated into the group, it’s still… almost like family.

When Poe arrives, the energy dials up another couple notches, and everyone spills out into the back yard with glasses of lemonade as Paige fires up her grill.

“Where’s Ben?” Finn asks Rey as chicken legs and ears of corn start sizzling on the grill.

You’re supposed to have just started dating him, she reminds herself. And they don’t know yet. You have a secret, a happy secret.

She smiles a little too widely and shrugs. “Am I his keeper?” Finn raises his eyebrows at her, and she laughs. “He has work until four. He’ll be here in a little while.”

“Then I hope he’s not expecting us to wait,” Rose calls from where she’s arranging the sides on Paige’s fold-out table. “I’m starving.”

It’s nearly five by the time Paige checks a text on her phone and slips back into the house. Rey is sitting on the bench swing with Finn and Rose squished in with her, laughing over plates of corn and chicken and potato salad, when Paige re-enters the back yard, followed by Ben, whose eyes go straight to Rey.

Her heart leaps and her face almost hurts with how hard she grins. It’s time. He looks— _ so adorable,  _ so excited to see her. It’s easy to jump up, depositing her plate on the grass, run over and throw her arms around his neck, pulling him down and kissing him with all the enthusiasm she can muster.

The various conversations in the yard fall into silence. As Ben’s hands smooth around Rey’s waist and up her back, as he kisses her back like he’s been aching to do it all day (and never mind what that does to her body; bodies respond, after all), Kaydel very clearly says, “What the fuck?”

Laughter bursts from Rey. Her teeth knock against Ben’s, and he catches her laugh, gazing down at her—she can only call it adoringly. Biting her lip, Rey turns her head to her friends, though her arms stay firm around Ben’s neck.

Finn’s face is unreadable, and Rose’s eyebrows have nearly disappeared into her hairline. Kaydel is literally pointing at them, Jannah is grinning, and Paige’s mouth has fallen open. And Poe—

“You okay, Poe?” Rey asks sweetly. “You don’t look well.”

Poe just makes a vague gesture at them.

“Yeah,” Ben says. “So. Rey and I sort of—”

“—have been talking. About—”

“—a lot of things. And now we’re…” He looks back down at her, and his hand rubs gently up and down her spine, just an inch, and his smile is bordering on goofy. “We actually are dating, now.”

Rose raises her hand like she’s in school. “I have so many questions.” Ben lowers his head and nuzzles against Rey’s neck; she can feel his smile, like he can’t help but hold her, can’t contain the need to drop a few light kisses against her shoulder. “Okay, the first one is: do you have to do that.”

“People are eating, Solo,” Poe finally manages to say.

Rey grins, injecting a little bit of sheepishness into it. “Sorry. We’re just…” She looks back up at Ben, catching his gaze. His eyes are honey-warm in the afternoon light. “Really happy.”

“Well, we’re happy for you,” Paige says. She’s at Ben’s elbow, a plate of food in hand. “Here you go, Ben. There’s lemonade and seltzer if you need something to drink.”

“Thanks.”

The routine hospitality breaks some of the surprised tension. “Well,” Kaydel says, hands on her hips, “I guess we did always say it was going to happen.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect to see them choking on each other’s tongues,” Poe mutters, making his way back over to the grill.

“There were no  _ tongues. _ ” Rey laces her fingers through Ben’s, leading him with her back to the bench swing. “Let us live a little. We’re excited.”

“And we’re excited for you,” Rose says. As Rey sits back down on the swing, she catches Rose sending Finn a look that pretty clearly says _ And they’ll chill out on the PDA soon enough. _

Hahaha, and also, ha. How little they know.

Rey tucks back into her dinner as Ben settles on the grass at her feet. He’s sitting sideways, and when he’s not busy holding an ear of corn or a chicken leg, he runs his hand idly up and down her calf. It’s sweet and intimate and not too obnoxious (”We have to let up occasionally,” Ben had said last night. “If it’s all heavy petting all the time, they won’t buy it. And if they know it’s a ruse, it won’t bother them.”), and it makes Rey feel warm and safe.

It really is nice, being touched by Ben.

She falls back into conversation with Finn and Rose. Ben is mostly quiet, sometimes laying light kisses against her knee. She reaches down and plays with his hair, which she’s always done, but she lets her fingers linger more than usual.

Finn doesn’t say anything about it, but every time Ben kisses her knee or strokes her leg, his eyes dart down to him and back up.

Across the yard, Poe looks vaguely ill.

It’s all Rey can do not to grin.

After a while, Rey gets up to toss her plate and go inside for the bathroom. As she washes her hands, she finally lets herself grin at her reflection. Her eyes are bright, her cheeks just the tiniest bit flushed. She looks every bit the young woman who just found her happy new beginning. It’s perfect.

When she goes back into the yard, Ben has finished eating and is lying back across the grass near the bench swing. It occurs to her that she could—just flop down and snuggle him. It would be uncomfortably over-the-top for everyone else, but not, like, literally shoving their tongues down each other’s throats. It’s a good balance.

A little part of her hesitates, though. She doesn’t date, but if she did, she’d never be comfortable doing this in front of all her friends. It’s not gratuitous, but it does seem excessive for someone as private as she is.

Rey takes a deep breath. The point of this isn’t to make their friends think they’re dating. It’s to make their friends think they’re dating and be _ disgusted  _ by them.

She gets down on her knees and crawls up to lie across Ben’s chest, her head tilting back along his shoulder so her nose can brush the side of his neck, her arms going around his middle. “Hey, handsome,” she practically oozes, pressing a kiss under his ear. His hands tighten on her hip, her shoulder.

Somewhere above them, Finn makes an unpleasant sound. “You know, Rey, I’m glad you’ve never dated before, if you’re this gross when you’re sweet on someone.”

Ben chuckles softly. It rumbles against Rey’s chest. She lifts her chin to whisper, “Is this okay?”

“Perfect, love.” He turns his head towards her so he can lower his voice. “Very cute and very gross.”

She giggles, and she swears she hears Finn roll his eyes.

When Ben lets his hand come to rest on her ass, she feels him grinning against her temple.

  
  


———

  
  


Their revenge only works, of course, if they’re around their friends. So Ben invites people to brunch the next day, and Poe, Paige, and Kaydel end up smiling tight, uncomfortable smiles across the diner booth when Rey very nearly sits in Ben’s lap, when they feed each other forkfuls of hotcakes and eggs, when they stare at each other long enough to qualify as officially ignoring their friends, their smiles more sticky-sweet than the syrup in the bottle on the table.

When Ben is attempting a genuine conversation with Poe, Rey hums softly to herself as she stares up at him, tracing constellations between his beauty marks with her fingertip.

When Rey leans across the table to show Paige pictures on her phone of the cute dogs she met at the park the other day, Ben leans in and kisses the side of her neck until she squirms and turns to kiss him square on the mouth and say “That’s no _ fair,  _ babe,” in a positively saccharine tone.

Poe calls for the check.

Rey and Ben coordinate with nigh-on military precision via text, him getting Poe and Finn to swing by the gym under vague pretenses, Rey making sure to show up minutes after them, pretending it was spontaneous, bringing a little paper bag of garlic knots she’d made that day and kissing Ben way too intently, her hands all in his hair and his hands cupping her ass and very obvious tongue action, before giving him the bread and then kissing Finn on the cheek on her way out the door (”Don’t kiss me with that _ mouth, _ ” he cries, scrubbing at his cheek. Poe looks like something died in his shoe).

It seems to be going well until Tuesday night. Rey is curled up on the couch, watching _ A Nightmare on Elm Street  _ and working her way through an enormous bowl of popcorn, when Finn gets home from work.

“Welcome home, honey,” she calls.

“Ugh.” Finn drops his keys in the bowl by the door. “Don’t even. I hear enough of that between you and Solo.”

“I’m not going to apologize for being affectionate with my boyfriend, Finn.”

“Right.” His tone is flat, and she assume it’s just annoyance (and she feels a little twinge of guilt—she doesn’t actually want to piss Finn off—but at the same time he of all people should have eased up ages ago on the teasing) until he circles around and sits next to her on the couch. “You act… really different with him.”

Rey raises her eyebrows. “He’s my boyfriend now.”

“I’m aware. But you’re, like… sappy. I heard you _ babytalk  _ the other day. And even though I know you’ve hooked up with people, I don’t know details because you always keep that stuff private.” He scoops out a handful of popcorn and levels a skeptical gaze at her. “It just seems a little… excessive.”

“I’m not trying to be excessive.”

“You sure about that?”

Shit. Finn knows her better than anyone besides Ben. If anyone’s going to figure them out, it’s him. But she’s not ready to give up the ghost just yet. “Like you said at Paige’s, I’ve never had a boyfriend before. Apparently it makes me—mushier.”

“But it’s _ Ben. _ ”

“And?” She juts out her chin defiantly. “I’m happy, Finn.”

He squints at her, then turns and slouches back against the cushions. “Okay,” he says, starting in on the popcorn. But he doesn’t sound convinced.

So the second she gets a chance, she hastily texts Ben.

__ I think finn is on to us  
_ I have a plan  
_ __ I need you to do me a really, really big favor…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder what the favor could be... ( ͡° ͜ ʖ ͡° )
> 
> P.S. Don't be afraid to come say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/nuanceismyjam), [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/nuanceismyjam), or [Tumblr](http://nuanceismyjam.tumblr.com/)! (Which I use in that order, in terms of frequency.)


	4. I feel so foolish (I never noticed)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DENIAL AIN'T JUST A RIVER IN EGYPT, BENJAMIN.
> 
> Anyway I am extremely soft for these two nerds. Enjoy.
> 
> Thanks as always to [crossingwinter](http://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter) for the beta!

In the time Ben has known her, Rey has never stopped surprising him. She shakes up his preconceived ideas. She challenges his habits that don’t serve him. She takes every bit of brutal honesty he makes her admit to herself and gives it right back to him, never letting him settle.

She’s obsessed with opossums for some reason. She puts blackstrap molasses in her coffee instead of sugar. She keeps shit in weird places, random packets of peanut butter crackers in her coffee table drawer and hair ties in her silverware drawer and a plastic baggie of fucking lightbulb filaments under the bathroom sink for un-fucking-knowable reasons.

But in all the time he’s known her, nothing she’s said or done has thrown him quite this much.

Ben stares at his phone so long the screen goes dark. He takes a deep breath, unlocks it again, and taps out his reply.  
  


_ Let me get this straight.  
_ _ You want me to…  
_ _ Jack off into a condom.  
_ _ And then bring it to your house. _

**Rey Johnson  
** _ yes exactly _

_ What the fuck is wrong with you? _

  
A moment later, his phone rings, Rey’s name flashing across the screen. When he answers, she immediately says, without hellos or preambles, “This may have been an in-person conversation.”

“You think?”

“Look—” There’s a pause and a shuffling sound. When she speaks again, she’s quieter. “Finn is suspicious, and if we can convince him we were having sex, it might help. But we’d need proof.”

“Shall I hand him my deflated, semen-filled condom directly, then?”

“Ben,  _ gross _ .” She laughs. “No. Just come over, put it in the bathroom trash right on top, then you can I can lounge around, like, without pants or something so we look post-coital when he comes home.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. This shit’s going to give him a headache. “I’m not lounging without pants in your apartment in front of Finn.”

“Then wear pants. I don’t care. Come on, Ben. Finn’s practical to a fault. I’m worried he won’t believe us if there isn’t evidence right under his nose.”

Ben sighs. “Then maybe we should just call it. Is it really worth all this, at this point?”

Another pause. A quieter one. “I’m having fun,” Rey says. “With this. With you.”

A half-smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He thinks about how much she’s smiled at him lately, how nice it feels for her to kiss his nose and moon over him and touch his face lovingly. Sweet, loving touches are a rarity in his life. “Yeah, me too.”

A beat, then: “I mean, I think Poe wants to die a little.”

“Ha. Yeah.” Right. That’s the fun part—giving their friends shit. The rest is just… is just… performance.

_ Do you believe that, kid?  _ asks an inner voice that sounds way the fuck too much like his dad.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll… do that. What you asked. Even though I feel the need to stress to you just how deeply weird and gross it is.”

“Ben Solo. When have you known me to be anything other than weird and gross?”

“Fair point. You’re more than weird and gross, though. We could lean into some of your other, less troubling qualities.”

He can full-on hear the grin in her voice. “What sort of qualities?”

“You’re a catch, Rey,” he mumbles. “You know that.”

A small, sharp little breath. Ben runs his hand through his hair and is thinking if— “Thanks,” Rey says. “For agreeing. Tomorrow night work for you?”

“Sure. When does Finn get home again?”

“Quarter to six. Like clockwork.”

“I’ll be there by half past.”

After they say goodbye and hang up, he just… stares at the phone in his hand for a while.

She’s really going to be the death of him.

He has the day off on Wednesday, but he’s at the gym bright and early anyway, hands chalked and brain emptied as he scales his preferred bouldering wall. Few things make his mind actually quiet—even when he’s fine, which he usually is at this point in his life, he’s an overthinker by nature—but climbing is one of them. It just clicks, for whatever reason. He’s taught a hundred classes, taken his friends climbing, so he’s seen plenty of people overthink their handholds. (Finn is a good climber; Rey is like a spider; Paige is competent. But if he ever has to try to teach Kaydel or Poe or Snap again, with their constant over-analyzing of options, inability to recognize poor moves, and general hesitation, respectively, he’ll probably put his head through a wall.)

Ben’s never done that. It’s like his body just knows: go there. Then there. Grab that. Step here. He doesn’t have to think. Getting into his body like this is like a giant reset button.

So it’s frustrating when, once he’s done and heading home, he’s still… weirdly tense.

No, not weirdly. It’s normal to be tense about the prospect of what he’s about to do, because what he’s about to do is the thing that’s weird.

When he stops at a drugstore on the way and buys a three-pack of condoms, he feels like a twelve-year-old for his inability to look the cashier in the eye.

He takes a shower. Eats breakfast. Reads a book. Realizes he’s not actually reading the book but instead thinking about Rey’s ass. Goes for a run, which doesn’t work as well as climbing, but still gets him out of his head because he’s absolutely not going to do this while thinking about Rey. Has to take another shower. Eats a belated lunch.

It’s three o’clock by the time he grabs the little plastic drugstore bag from where he’d left it by the door and goes into the bedroom.

Ben lives alone; there’s no need to masturbate in his bedroom. But he feels, weirdly, like he needs privacy for this. Like someone’s watching.

Which, in a very abstract sense, he supposes they are. This whole thing is for Finn’s benefit. Which is fucking weird and doing absolutely nothing to get his dick hard.

With a sigh, he lies back across the bed and closes his eyes, one hand resting on his stomach.

He’s not used to _ trying  _ to get himself horny. Generally speaking, he jacks off when he’s already feeling worked up. It’s a functional exercise, not a deliberate indulgence. (A very welcome, very enjoyed functional exercise, but still.) He finds himself at a loss.

Well. That isn’t entirely true. He has a fair amount of potentially-arousing material fresh in his memory. The problem is that he feels guilty getting off thinking about Rey. When they set up this ruse, “using each other as spank bank material” was definitely not on the list of what they’d planned to do.

It also wasn’t specifically excluded from the list. To be fair.

“You fuck,” Ben mutters to himself.

But she’s such a fucking good kisser. The way her hands cup his face, run through his hair, trail down the back of his neck, always send pleasant chills through him. The feeling of her pert ass under his hand—which, fuck, he can basically cover an entire asscheek of hers with one of his hands, and that does some very specific, very heated things low in his belly—holding her like that gives him a warm rush of comfort in his chest at the same time as it threatens to give him a semi.

When she whispers or laughs in his ear. The way she bites her lip when she grins cheekily. How she feels all pressed up against his chest, the small swell of her breasts pushing—

Ben realizes his hand has drifted and he’s palming his definitely-now-hard cock through his boxer briefs. Okay. Get a move on, then. He’s here for a purpose.

Tugging down his underwear and tearing into the condom box without delicacy because who cares, he gets one condom free of its wrapper and rolls it on. With one hand, he holds it at the base of his shaft so he doesn’t shuck it right off, his spare fingers cupped around his balls. With the other hand, he starts to stroke himself.

It’s weird, with the condom on. Not that he can’t feel it—condoms aren’t that thick or _ that _ desensitizing—but it’s definitely different. His hand knows his cock well; his fingers know the tiniest, most subtle shifts in grip and speed and placement that make all the difference. Those subtleties are hard to feel, this way. The pressure is good, the strokes are good, he’s breathing harder and canting his hips a little, but it’s not really… going anywhere.

If he doesn’t come, then he just jerked it with a condom on for no fucking reason, which is a stupid sort of indignity he refuses to surrender to. Also, he promised Rey.

When, at the thought of Rey, his cock twitches in his fist and the next stroke of his hand sends a hot jolt through his core, that voice that reminds him way the fuck too much of his dad butts in to ask _ So how’s that self-delusion going? _

Ben groans. For more than one reason.

But he has to come in this stupid fucking condom.

Swallowing his guilt, he thinks about kissing Rey. Her pliant, warm lips moving against his. Her tongue seeking his. The way, when he kisses her for longer than a couple seconds, she makes this little sigh and sort of melts against him.

Sometimes she kisses his neck. Chastely. Just sweet little kisses. But maybe—but maybe she could really kiss him there. Properly. Lips parting, tongue pressing against his pulse.

His breath catches. His fingers tighten.

She could kiss down his collarbone, across his bare chest. Down his stomach, her hands grabbing at his hips, like she wants to—but he’d reach down and pull her up to him, hands in her hair, kiss her hard ‘til her knees go weak, and panting against her mouth he’d say _ no, not yet, if you do that I’m done for. _

And she could kiss him deeply, her hands trailing down his front to unzip his pants despite his protests. _ Come on, Ben. Let me have my fun.  _ And the wickedest grin sending a hot burst of pleasure to his core as she sinks to her knees and pulls him free.

You ass, you ass, you absolute fuck, he thinks, but only distantly, because his head is pressed back against the mattress and he’s breathing hard and his heart is pounding as his hand strokes faster.

If she peered up at him with those clever eyes. If she leaned in and licked a hot, wet stripe up the underside of his cock. Swirled her tongue around the head, humming happily as she pursed her pretty lips and sucked down the precome he’d already be leaking because she’s so—

“ _ Fuck. _ ” Ben’s hips jerk up, thrusting into the grip of his hand. A low, guttural sound escapes from his throat.

He imagines Rey taking him, all of him, into her mouth and throat, and that’s it, he’s done, he’s fucking gone—his hand pumps and he swears and gasps and it’s like a sled gone downhill going faster and faster and he’s not going to stop until he crashes into a fucking tree—

When he spills into the condom, teeth gritted against a hoarse grunt, it’s to the mental image of Rey swallowing every goddamned drop.

Ears ringing and chest heaving, Ben lies on the bed, both hands coming up to cover his face.

He’s in trouble.

  
  


———

  
  


“Hi,” Rey says when she opens her door, immediately followed by, “Do you have it?”

Ben grimaces. “Yes. Please don’t look so eager.”

“Can you toss it in the bathroom trash can? Right on top. Don’t wrap it up or anything. We need Finn to see it.”

“This is easily the most disgusting thing I’ve ever done. And I once had to suture my dad’s busted hand in our garage with a sewing kit.”

“That’s not disgusting, that’s badass.”

“You’re like a human raccoon,” he mumbles, making his way to the bathroom.

The offending object is wrapped in a tissue and sealed in a plastic baggie. Ben pulls it out of his pocket and frowns as he opens it, unwraps it, drops the condom wrapper and the spent condom together into the trash can.

“Did you have fun?”

He startles, turning to Rey where she’s leaning against the doorframe and—not quite grinning at him. There’s something a little too soft in her eyes for it to be her usual playful grin. “Are you seriously asking me what I think you’re asking?”

“I just wondered—”

“Please don’t.” It comes out harsher than he means to. “I really—” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I really would prefer not to talk about that.”

Rey bites her lip, smile gone, looking up at him. After a moment she nods. “Okay.” Ben’s heart does a funny sort of crunch at how quickly the light fell from her face, but she bounces back—or pretends to, at least, there’s a bit too much intention behind it—as she turns and heads to the couch, calling back to him, “Finn will be home soon. Let’s get cozy.”

She’s wearing an oversized pajama shirt and shorts; Ben sees her tug down the shorts and throw them unceremoniously on the bedroom floor before padding over to the couch, long legs bared. He follows her, and by the time he sits, she’s pulled her hair out of its ponytail and is mussing it with her hands.

“Here.” She holds out the hair tie to him.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Put it on your wrist. Like you pulled it out of my hair during sex and held onto it for me.”

Ben takes the black elastic, feeling oddly sobered as he pulls it onto his wrist. “I’ll always hold onto your hair ties,” he quips, more lightly than he feels. “Like a good boyfriend.”

She smiles at him so warmly. “The best boyfriend.” Then she leans in and starts running her hands through his hair. “We’ve got to get you a little messed up, too.”

“Hm.”

“Maybe bite your lips a little? So it looks like we’ve been kissing for an hour.”

“Right.” He obeys, because that’s probably a better idea than actually making out right now.

Rey’s gaze roams over his face and hair, brow furrowed in concentration. When she decides he looks right, she sits back. “Perfect. All right, time to snuggle like boneless puppies.”

Before he can say a word, she’s pushing him back against the throw cushion and crawling up into his arms. “Boneless puppies? That’s a terrible mental image.”

“You know what I mean.” She tucks her head against his chest, sprawls her legs and twines them around his, heaving a huge sigh and going limp and soft. “All post-sex floppy and happy.”

Ben settles his arms around her, lifting one hand to play with her hair. “Not going to lie, it’s been a little while. I’m not sure I can summon an accurate impression.”

Rey turns her head, resting her chin on his chest and smiling up at him. “You’ll do fine.”

His breath catches. It’s—devastating, really. The way she looks peeking up at him like that, her hair loose and curtained around her face. Like a reflex, he brings his free hand up to cup her face, thumb stroking across her cheekbone. Rey hums softly and closes her eyes, turning her head to lie on his chest again as he touches her freckled cheek.

She’s getting into the moment. He knows that. Any bliss she’s showing is a combination of  _ bodies respond  _ and deliberate acting.

Still. It makes him feel so warm. So safe. So calm.

God, he loves her so fucking much.

He doesn’t let himself dissect if it’s still in the same way it was a week ago.

A key turns in the lock. Ben feels Rey’s hand on his chest press the tiniest bit harder against him as the door swings open.

“Hey Re— _ Rey. _ ” Finn’s exasperation makes Ben bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. “Are you seriously not wearing pants?”

Rey sits up. “Oh! Shit, sorry Finn, we lost track of time—” She rolls up off the couch, hurrying to the bedroom.

Finn closes the door, muttering and shaking his head. “I really hope you were just cuddling.”

“A gentleman never tells,” Ben muses.

Finn turns a level gaze on him. “Then you’d have no problem telling?”

“Ouch. Harsh blow, Jackson.”

With a sigh, Finn shakes his head again and heads toward—oh no, or oh yes, towards the bathroom. “Sorry, man. It’s just really awkward to come home and see you two looking so—” He hears the medicine cabinet open and close in the bathroom, and Rey comes back out with her shorts back on, and then a beat later Finn yells, “ _ Rey! _ ”

She grins a thousand-watt grin at Ben.

Finn storms out of the bathroom. “Do we or do we not have one rule in this house?”

“I’m sorry,” Rey says, not looking sorry at all. “We got carried away and—”

“No thank you, I don’t need details.” He rubs his forehead. “Look, I’m glad you guys are happy, but there’s not enough privacy here for—that. Just—go to Ben’s next time, okay? Just because I’m happy for you doesn’t mean I want tickets to the show.”

“Sorry, man,” Ben says, trying to muster some genuine contrition. “We’ll save it for my place from now on.”

“ _ Thank you. _ ”

Finn vanishes into the kitchen. Rey flops back down on the couch, leaning against Ben’s side. He brings an arm around her, hand resting on her hip, and lets her take his other hand between both of hers. “Do you think he was too mad?” she whispers.

“Don’t know. Not really?” Ben rests his head against hers, watching her trace the lines on his palm with her fingertips. “But he definitely seems to believe it.” Rey nods.

They sit in quiet for a little while, Rey tracing his hand, until Ben’s phone vibrates on the coffee table. His mother’s name is on the screen. When he doesn’t move to answer it, Rey pokes him. “Answer your mom,” she says firmly.

“I didn’t want to stop cuddling,” he says as he reaches for the phone and answers. “Hey Mom.”

“Ben, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Again, hello, I love you too.”

“Oh, stop it. You should have called and told us you and Rey started dating.”

Ben feels his shoulders tense. “Who told you?”

“Your father and I ran into Poe just now. We’re so happy for you, Ben.”

He turns to Rey and mouths, _ She knows.  _ Rey looks every bit the panicked deer in the headlights.

“You’ll bring her to dinner, won’t you? Do you work any evenings this weekend? Saturday is out for us, but—”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Ben says.

Leia huffs on the other end of the line. “Why?”

“I…” He glances at Rey helplessly. She shrugs—she can’t hear the whole conversation well enough. “It’s so soon.”

“Please, Ben, we’ve known Rey for years. Is it really so terrible, having dinner with us?”

“Do you want me to answer that?”

“Benjamin.”

He sighs. “Okay, Mom. Whenever is fine.”

He can hear the smile in her voice when she replies, and for all she’s irritating him, he’s still glad to have not upset her. “Good. Tomorrow, six o’clock?”

“Sure. We’ll see you then.”

Rey looks up at him with huge eyes as he hangs up. “I’m sorry,” he tells her. “It was going to hurt her feelings if I said no—”

“It’s okay. I don’t want you to hurt her feelings.”

“I know.”

Rey shrugs. “It won’t be so bad, will it? They already know me.” She doesn’t say it because Finn is around, but her eyes scream,  _ What do we do when we end the ruse? _

“It’ll be fine,” he tells her, and he means it. She still looks worried, though, and it’s making Ben’s heart clench. So he cups the back of her neck gently and leans in, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to her forehead. “I’ll take care of everything, sweetheart. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. Don't be afraid to come say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/nuanceismyjam), [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/nuanceismyjam), or [Tumblr](http://nuanceismyjam.tumblr.com/)! (Which I use in that order, in terms of frequency.)


	5. Now I'm convinced I'm going under

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey "I have no idea why I'm panicking just kidding I know exactly why I'm panicking but I'm going to deeply repress it because it's a scary and difficult thing" Johnson goes to dinner with her fake boyfriend's parents, then spends the night at her fake boyfriend's apartment. Surely everything will be perfectly fine.
> 
> Thank you as ever to my dear [crossingwinter](http://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter) for beta-reading! Your reactions to this chapter did my heart good.

Part of Rey calms at Ben’s promise that this will work out fine. Part of her can’t stop worrying. She packs her overnight bag erratically, throwing in three pairs of underwear (unnecessary for one night) and a pair of knee socks (it’s summer) and a packet of peanut butter crackers (Ben has food at his place if she gets hungry). She’s ready an hour before Ben is due to pick her up, and she sits on the couch, chewing her thumbnail and staring at the floor.

There’s a tangle of nerves in her stomach. What if Leia and Han are disappointed when they find out she’s not really dating Ben? Will they be hurt they were lied to?

And tonight—after dinner, she’s staying the night at Ben’s. It’s to follow up on what they talked about with Finn, to keep up appearances. But the thought of it keeps making her palms sweaty.

And on top of being nervous about staying at Ben’s, she’s nervous about why she’s nervous. Which is stupid. But it’s happening whether she will or no.

But if Rey is good at anything, it’s avoiding examining her feelings. And Ben will be here soon. And they need to put on a good front tonight. So she takes hold of all the nerves about staying with Ben and shoves them away in a box. Being nervous about his parents is fine. That’s simpler.

When Ben texts her that he’s outside the building, she all but sprints down the stairs like she could run away from her own thoughts. (She’s done it before. Surely she can do it again.)

“Hey,” she says as she hops in the passenger seat of his car. “Ready for this?”

Ben groans in response.

Buckling her seatbelt as he pulls out into the street, Rey continues, “It’ll be fine. You’ve survived dinner with your parents before and you will again. And this time, afterwards we can go watch dumb movies together.”

He nods. “Yeah. I put fresh sheets on the bed for you, by the way. I figure I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Ben Solo, I’m not taking your bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No.” He switches on his turn signal, not glancing away from the intersection. “You’re my guest. You get the bed.”

“You’ll never fit on that couch. Not comfortably all night. Take your bed.”

“I said no.”

“And you’re being stubborn for no reason. It’s your bed, Ben.” She reaches over, jabs a finger into his bicep. “I’m sleeping on the couch. If you fight me on it again, I swear to god I’ll wrestle you for it.”

After turning, he spares her a quick glance with a flash of a smirk. “Challenge accepted.”

They wind down hilly streets, further towards his parents’ neighborhood. Rey chews her thumbnail, staring out the window, and after a few minutes breaks the comfortable silence. “I was thinking,” she starts. “We should probably chill out on the PDA. Your parents aren’t on the list of people we’re trying to gross out.”

He nods. “Good point. Maybe not totally avoid it though.”

“Right. We’re touchy anyway. We should probably—at least hold hands.”

“A couple kisses.”

“Yeah.” Rey glances over at him properly, taking in the slightly hunched line of his upper back. “You still seem tense.”

Ben shrugs one shoulder. “When am I not tense on my way to see my parents?”

“Don’t fight with your dad. You know I hate that.”

“Yes, dear.”

She bites her lip. They do sound like—like a couple. Which is silly. It’s the same sort of conversation they’ve had a dozen times before. But now…

“You’re still worried,” Ben says.

Rey shrugs. “Kind of.”

“Rey, it’s fine. When we tell them what was actually going on, they’ll probably laugh.”

“I know. It’s just—they weren’t part of the revenge target. I feel bad pulling them into it.”

“Well, if we tell them the truth, Poe will find out in five seconds.” To his credit, there’s only a faint trace of bitterness in his voice. “So either we should give up the ghost, or we can’t tell them.”

Rey lets her gaze drift back out the passenger window. They’re getting close, now, turning down tree-lined streets with lovely old houses. “Then let’s not tell them,” she says. “I don’t want to quit just yet.”

More wistfulness creeps into her voice than she meant to, and Ben reaches across the center console to take her hand. “Hey. I promise, Rey, it’s gonna be fine.”

She gives him a small smile. He can tell she’s upset, but he’s not a mind reader. He doesn’t know exactly why. And hell, she’s trying not to think about it herself.

It’s probably better that way, at least for now.

She just squeezes his hand.

When they park on the street in front of Han and Leia’s house, Rey swallows her nerves. Despite her conflicted feelings, she still wants to keep up the ruse, and for that, she has to be happy.

So she does what she does so well: pretends she’s fine.

And she knows Ben can tell, but they’re walking hand-in-hand up the path to the front door, so there’s no time for him to dig into her about it.

Then the door swings open and Han grins at them. “Well well well.”

“Hi Han.”

“Hi Dad.”

Rey can practically hear the eye-roll Ben’s holding back in response to Han’s shit-eating grin. She tugs on his hand and says, “Thanks so much for inviting us over.”

“That was all Leia. I know this one doesn’t love our dinners.” Han jabs a thumb in Ben’s direction. “But it’s good to see you, kid. Come on in.”

Rey nudges Ben as Han steps back from the door, and, still holding his hand, follows him in.

She’s only been to Leia and Han’s place a few times, but she loves it. It’s modestly sized but beautifully designed. It’s at least a hundred years old, like a lot of houses in Pittsburgh; unlike some, it’s been well-preserved. Stained glass insets glint in the line of front windows, the hardwood floors gleam even as they creak softly underfoot, and the flow of the rooms is natural and smooth as they walk through the living room, past the well-worn blanket-covered couch and the piano (which Rey always wants to hear Ben play but never asks him to because she knows he hated his piano lessons growing up no matter how good he was), through the dining room, and into the kitchen.

The cabinets are crisp and white, the counters polished granite, and Leia is frowning as she fusses with something in the oven. “Look who made it,” Han says.

Leia shuts the oven door and stands up, a soft smile breaking through the irritation in her features. “Ben.” She comes over to them, arms open, and Ben hunches over to hug her. Rey watches the line of his shoulders soften; her heart softens, too, at the sight. Then Leia turns to her, beaming now. “And Rey.”

When she gathers Rey up in her arms, the softness in Rey’s heart positively squeezes, and she smiles into Leia’s shoulder, hugging her back fiercely. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you.” Leia smiles at her as she pulls away. “I’m so glad you and my son got together.”

“Have you been betting on us for years?” Ben grumbles. “Because apparently all our friends have been.”

“No,” Han says. He’s leaning against the counter, nursing a freshly-opened bottle of beer. “You’ve always been good friends. No reason to complicate that if you don’t want to. But you are good for each other.”

“Yeah.” Ben reaches for Rey, an arm around her waist and hand on her hip, gently pulling her against his side. She melts against him, hugging him sideways in return. “She’s the first person who doesn’t take my shit that I actually listened to.”

“You have a good heart,” she murmurs, gaze lowering as she leans the side of her head against his chest. “You’re just dumb sometimes. But so am I.” He kisses the top of her head, and the way Leia is looking at them when Rey glances up makes her chest feel tight. “Can I help set the table?” she asks, slipping out from Ben’s arm.

“Of course. Han?”

Ben stays in the kitchen with Leia while Rey and Han carry plates and glasses and silverware into the dining room. “They’re going to yell at us,” Han mutters as they lay silverware alongside the plates in no particular order. “Both of them are fussy about this stuff.”

“I always forget,” Rey says. “How much Ben knows about etiquette.”

“Oh, his mother made sure he learned. If she had to, so did he.”

Her hands come to rest on her hips. “I mean, I think it looks fine.”

Han shrugs. “So do I. But what do we know?” Rey laughs—he’s not wrong. They’re the scruffier ones of the two pairs of them.

And soon they’re sitting down to dinner, to paprika-roasted chicken with onions and carrots and zucchini, potatoes, glasses of water and of wine. Like everything else in Han and Leia’s home, it’s lovely without being pretentious, and everything is delicious. Rey relaxes by inches. It’s hard to be unhappy when she has food in her stomach, especially delicious food.

For a while the conversation is normal. No different than it would be any other time. But halfway through the meal, Rey notices Leia gazing at her fondly from across the table. When Leia catches Rey catching her, she rolls her eyes. “Forgive me. I’m being a sappy mother.”

“About—about what?”

Leia pauses. She smooths her hands over the napkin on her lap before looking back up at Rey. “I think you know I’ve worried about Ben.”

“Mom,” Ben mumbles. His ears start to flush.

Rey bites her lip and lays her hand over his on the edge of the table. His fingers flex instantly at the contact; she rubs her thumb back and forth across the side of his hand. Because she does know. Ben was the angry kind of teenager. His early and mid twenties were a mess. He didn’t date much—or have many friends, for that matter. The trouble in his own head was just too loud.

“It’s nice, dear,” Leia says to Ben. “To know you’ve found a partner, and such a good one.”

“Dating isn’t everything,” Rey says. The conversation is making her feel—defensive of him, for some reason.

“She doesn’t mean it that way,” Han says.

Leia sends her husband a wry smile. “It’s true. I mean a real partner. The mutual support. Figuring out life together. A sort of—buddy system. You don’t have to go it alone. Even if you fight sometimes”—another fond, but somewhat exasperated, smile to Han—”you know they always have your back.”

“You don’t get that from any old girlfriend,” Han says, pointing his fork at Ben.

“Please don’t do that with your fork.”

“Apologies, princess.”

“But we’ve always been like that.” Rey curls her fingers around Ben’s hand as best she can, for how huge his hands are. He responds, turning over to press his palm to hers and lace their fingers together. “Even just as friends. That’s just how we are.”

“Exactly. He could’ve gone off and chosen any woman. But he chose one who has his back.” Leia’s smile softens. “It’s good to know. And it’s good to have you in the family.”

Rey tries to swallow down the thickening feeling in her throat. “The family?”

“I know you just started dating, but you’ve known each other a long time. I don’t think it’s too early to consider you part of the family.”

“Mom.” Ben’s voice is strangely rough. Not with anger.

Rey forces a smile. “Well, I—thank you. Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

“You’ll have to throw in on the arguments now,” Han says.

A huff-through-the-nose sort of laugh escapes Ben. “Don’t goad her. She’ll eviscerate us all.”

And with that, the conversation turns back to more neutral territory. Rey carries on finishing her dinner, but she doesn’t let go of her tight grip on Ben’s hand.

All through clearing the table and washing dishes, through apple cake and cups of coffee, through discussions of the old junker Han’s trying to fix up and Rey’s professional opinion of the apple cake and plans for Leia’s birthday next month—there’s talk of a trip to a lake house and insistence that Rey come along—Rey feels her heart grow tighter and tighter. She feels like she ought to be crying, but her eyes are dry. It’s like the tears have slipped back down inside her and welled up in her chest, and that’s why it feels so heavy.

When they say their goodbyes, Han hugs her a bit awkwardly, his cheek scratchy against hers and the scent of a tobacco-like cologne that reminds her a lot of how Ben always smells, and he murmurs, “Good to see you again, kid.” Then Leia hugs her with a softness and a strength that makes Rey press her face into Leia’s shoulder again, squeezing shut her eyes.

“We’re so happy you’re in the family,” Leia whispers, and the kind, unusually gentle words pierce her through the heart.

They say their goodbyes and make their way back to the car, pulling off down the street with sunset colors just beginning to wash across the sky.

Rey doesn’t even realize how close they are to Ben’s place as she stares out the window, chewing her fingernails, until Ben asks, “Are you all right?” And then she realizes she hasn’t spoken a word most of the way.

“Sorry.” She rubs a hand across her face. The box she shoved her feelings in earlier was perhaps not well-closed. The lid is askew and tendrils of aching are creeping out. She does her best to push them back down. “Tired, I guess? That was more draining than I expected.”

“I actually expected it to be worse,” he says. “But I’m sorry it was rough on you.” She shrugs. “You still up for movies?”

“I don’t know? Maybe let me get into pajamas and see how I feel?”

“Fair enough.”

When they get to his place, she hoists her duffel bag onto her shoulder and follows him inside, mouth dry and fingernails in tatters from her biting at them. Ben’s apartment is quiet and cool and smells faintly of pine, like always. He flips on the living room lights as Rey slips into the bathroom with her duffel.

She pulls her hair into a ponytail, changes into her oversized t-shirt and shorts, washes her face. Lifting her head, she blinks at herself in the mirror, water droplets falling from her lashes.

Fuck, she looks miserable.

Alone now for the first time in hours, she feels the ache yawn wide open in her chest. It presses up into her throat and she gasps, eyes burning hot, and chokes back a sob.

Because she’s thinking: I didn’t get to properly kiss Ben at all today. And the thought breaks her heart. And that it breaks her heart is the hardest thing of all, the thing she’s been trying to hide away.

She loves him so much and always has that she didn’t think twice about it when she’s felt so full of love for him the past few days. He’s Ben. Of course she loves him. But this—the way it feels when he cups the back of her neck and kisses her forehead. When he twines his fingers through hers. When his hand is on her hip and his thumb brushes gently against her side. It’s not just  _ bodies respond _ . It’s something else.

Yesterday, kneeling on the couch and running her hands through his hair, she had wanted nothing more than to kiss him. And when they snuggled up and he’d touched her cheek—nobody was around to see that. They didn’t have to perform for anyone. But he’d touched her so sweetly, so without pretense, with such a soft look in his eyes, and it had made everything in her melt.

She loves him. She loves him so fucking much.

And his parents love her. They said she’s part of the family.

And the second this ruse is over, all of it—Ben’s sweet, gentle touches, his kisses, the way he’s been looking at her, Han and Leia accepting her into their arms—all of it will go away.

She doesn’t know how she’s going to bear it.

Rey waits until her breathing is calm and her eyes are clear. She bounces on her heels, swings her arms, shakes out the jitters. Only then does she leave the bathroom.

Ben is sprawled on the couch, a glass of water on the coffee table in front of him and the television on, though he’s staring up at the ceiling. His shirt has ridden up a little in the back and Rey can see a sliver of pale skin at his hip. “Hey.” He looks over at her, his face so soft and open he clearly didn’t hear her come out. “Not to be a party pooper, but I do think I’m going to head straight to bed.”

“Okay.” He nods.

Rey stares at him. “So, um. Sorry to be an inconvenience and all, but can you—move?”

Ben furrows his brow. “I thought you said you’re going to bed.”

“Yes. On the couch.”

“You’re taking the bed.”

“Ben—” Rey takes a deep breath against the flare of frustration. “I’m not doing this. Let me have the couch.”

He sits up, fixing his intense gaze on her. “I’m not making you sleep on the couch, Rey.”

“You’re not making me. I’m insisting.”

“No.”

“Ugh, you’re so—Fine.” She crosses the room, gesturing to him. “Come on. We’re wrestling for it.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Did you think I was kidding earlier, Solo? You apparently won’t let me just have it, so I’ll have to win it from you.”

He laughs a low laugh, standing up. “You really think you can beat me at wrestling?”

“I’m scrappy. Now move the coffee table.”

Raising an eyebrow at her, he obeys, pulling the coffee table off to the side. Rey crouches slightly, hands up, and Ben frowns at her. “Are we wrestling, or boxing?”

Which is frankly more than enough of his smart mouth, so Rey ducks her head and charges in and slams her arms around his middle, head against his side and trying to haul him down to the floor. She must’ve caught him off guard because he thuds down onto the carpet. Quick as she can, Rey rolls up to her knees and sits on his chest, grabbing his wrists as he lifts his hands towards her. “Not a chance,” she grunts, leaning all her weight in even as he pushes back, his face screwed up in determination.

But physics are physics, and he’s a hell of a lot bigger than her. After a few moments he pushes hard, sitting up and flipping her onto her back, which almost knocks the wind out of her. Straddling over her, he pins her wrists on the floor on either side of her head before she can even try to push back.

Straining her arms and shoulders and chest, Rey tries to shove him off, but he holds her sound. Then she stops squirming for half a second and looks into his face, and then she goes very still.

He’s hovering over her, hair falling across his forehead. His eyes are steady and serious. The soft, plush line of his mouth looks more kissable than ever as he pants, lips parted.

“Take the bed, Rey.”

“Okay.” Her voice is small.

Ben sits back, releasing her wrists, then stands up. She feels cold without the weight of him on her. Rey sits up and takes the hand he offers her to haul her to her feet. She fixes her now-mussed ponytail, not quite meeting his gaze. “Okay,” she says again, trying to force a smile into her voice. “You win, you big bully.”

If he notices her tone isn’t quite truthfully playful, he’s kind enough not to mention it. “Told you.”

She manages to shoot him a smirk, though she still doesn’t look in his eyes. “Goodnight, Ben.”

And she pads across the room to the bedroom door, the last thing she hears before shutting it behind her is his soft, “Goodnight, Rey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry friends, they're both going to go to sleep and never speak of this again and in the morning everything will be back to status quo. Totally. Definitely.
> 
> P.S. Don't be afraid to come say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/nuanceismyjam), [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/nuanceismyjam), or [Tumblr](http://nuanceismyjam.tumblr.com/)! (Which I use in that order, in terms of frequency.)


	6. A little mystery to figure out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TROPES ON TROPES ON TROPES. (I tagged Sharing a Bed for a reason. Wink.)
> 
> Thank you as ever to [crossingwinter](http://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter) for the beta-read!

It’s too quiet in the apartment after Rey goes to bed. Or rather, it’s as quiet as it ever is when Ben is home alone. He’s not alone now, though. Rey is here, with her ever-burning energy. That’s why it feels too quiet—if she’s here, there ought to be… more. Laughter, or conversation, or arguments, or puttering in his kitchen trying to scrape together the ingredients to bake a banana bread or a coffee cake.

Instead she’s in his room behind the closed door, and Ben is lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling again.

She’s not okay. He can’t tell if she’s still feeling guilty about duping his parents or if it’s something else, but she’s definitely not okay. And Ben is pissed at himself for not even trying to coax her into talking about it.

That’s what he always does, and what she always does to him.  _ You’re an expert at bullshitting yourself, but don’t bullshit me,  _ he had once told her. Her fucked-up childhood made her build this defense mechanism of seriously repressing her negative emotions and even shit she straight-up knows to be true if it hurts too much. From how she tells it, she’s much better about it now, but he still has to press a little to help her keep being honest.

And him—well. Ben’s nothing if not honest. But he’s not always good at figuring out the why behind his feelings, or about separating feelings from logic. And while Rey may not be fantastic at doing that for herself either, she manages to see through him so clearly that she doesn’t let him get away with his bullshit, either.

It’s one of the things he loves most about her. About their relationship. But he didn’t even try, tonight. And he knows it’s because he’s scared.

Scared he’ll take it too far. Scared that if she starts crying in his arms, he’ll kiss her, here without anyone watching. And yes, they love each other enough that even if he did do a stupid thing like that, it wouldn’t drive her away. They’re ride-or-die, the two of them. But it might make her uncomfortable. Might make her worry more. Might just be another damn thing she doesn’t need when she’s already upset.

So he’d kept his mouth shut.

Even if she finds out that he’s—that his feelings for her have grown, he’s not going to lose her. But the rejection would swallow his heart whole.

He moved past this once before. He can do it again.

Since he never did turn on anything to watch, it’s just Ben and his thoughts in the silence for some stretch of time after Rey goes to bed. But then, somewhere in the middle of his wallowing and self-flagellation, he hears a soft, strange sound.

It’s barely even audible. If he hadn’t been lying in silence so loud it echoed in his ears for ten minutes, he never would’ve heard it. But he does, and he sits up on the couch and stares hard at his bedroom door.

A minute later, he hears it again. This time it sounds more familiar.

He’s on his feet and across the room almost before he even decides to do it.

One hand on the doorknob, he knocks lightly against the door. “Rey?” There’s no answer except something that might be a very quiet sniffle. “Rey, I know you’re awake. Can I please come in?”

Five heartbeats, then: “Okay.”

Ben opens the door.

It’s dim in his room, only a faint glow from the street lamps spilling through the blinds on the window, but he can see Rey curled up in the covers on the bed. Her face is turned into the pillow, and when Ben sits on the edge of the bed, it finally brings him close enough to tell for sure.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. He keeps his voice very soft. “And don’t say nothing because I can tell you’re crying.”

When she turns her face up towards him, it breaks his fucking heart.

Her eyes are puffy, her nose red, her cheeks tear-stained. A hiccuping, shaky breath makes her chest shiver under her t-shirt. “It’s your parents.”

If her face is a mess, so is her voice, all thick and strangled. Ben takes her hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze. “What about them?”

Rey shakes her head slowly, her gaze falling to stare somewhere across the room. At nothing, maybe. “They were so… welcoming. So loving.”

“Of course they were. You’re a fucking delight, Rey.”

Her lips press together harder and her eyes start shining too much, and whatever was wrong with what Ben said, he wishes he could snatch the words back into his stupid mouth. “Your mom said,” she starts, then sniffles and scrubs at her eyes with her free hand. “Your mom said I was part of the family.” Ben feels an inkling—he can tell the direction this is going, but he can’t guess the specifics. She doesn’t make him wait. “Just—if we really were dating, I’d have—I’d have family. Not just in you, but in them. And the second we give up this ruse, that’s gone.” Despite her efforts, her eyes spill over with fresh tears, and he can only just understand her twisting words as she says, “It hurts so much to come so close and then just…”

“Hey. Hey.” Ben shifts his hips further down the bed, coming to lie on his side and pull her into his arms. She comes easily, pressing her face against his chest, her hands curled loosely on either side of her face, shuddering in his arms as she descends back into tears. It wrenches something in Ben’s chest, absolutely wrenches it and fills him with a kind of grief he’s never felt in his life, the helplessness of seeing, hearing, feeling her cry and knowing he can’t fix it. So he just murmurs, “I’ve got you, sweetheart,” against the top of her head and rubs her back while she cries herself out.

Rey has never ceased to surprise him, and she surprises him again now. The ache she’s woken in his chest mingles with an anger she’s lit—not at her, but at her shit parents, her shit childhood, the shit world that hurt her so badly. At the fact that he can’t fucking _ fix it.  _ Never in his life has he felt this blend of emotions.

It’s surprising, actually, that he can name them so clearly. But then, Rey has always brought him clarity.

“Rey.” He lifts a hand to stroke her hair, pushing it out of its ponytail and caressing her as soothingly as he can. “We’re done, okay? We’re done with the ruse.”

And she wouldn’t be Rey if she didn’t keep surprising him. He expects relief. Instead she looks up at him with a sharp inhale, flatter than a gasp but not quite a sob. “What?”

“Sweetheart, we’re done.” He just keeps stroking her hair, keeps his voice steady. “It was always meant to be a bit of fun. It’s not fun anymore.”

“But—”

“Rey.” His hand stills against the side of her head. He cradles her face, keeps her looking at him. “It’s hurting you. We’re not going to carry on with it when it’s hurting you.”

Her slim fingers clutch at the cotton of his t-shirt. She’s still looking up at him like this, her face so open and vulnerable, with his hand cradling her there and her chest against his. It makes him fucking ache. “I don’t want it to be over. I want—I want more time.”

“I think we’ve tormented Poe enough.”

Finally her gaze falls from his, landing on her own hands. “I’m not ready for it to be over,” she nearly whispers.

And that—the softness, the fragility in her tone—that’s not about messing with Poe.

He takes a deep breath.

“You know my parents are still going to love you, right?” Her brow furrows; he sees her lips press together, sees her swallow, but she keeps staring at her hands. “They’ve always adored you. You can still—I can invite you to things, if you want. Family stuff. My parents—they’ll understand how you feel. They’ll want you too, Rey.” She still won’t look at him, so he firms his hand against her cheek, his thumb brushing down under her chin, and tips her face up. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

“You’ll take care of me?” Even though her face is lifted towards him, her line of sight is falling somewhere around his nose. “That’s what you said at my place yesterday. When I was worried. That you’d take care of everything.”

And she looks—lost. And it breaks everything in him.

Ben lets out a huge sigh and gathers her up in his arms again, holding her against his chest. She melts against him. “I’ll always take care of you, Rey. Like you take care of me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“We’ll call it off.”

And the part of him that regrets that—the part that thinks he’ll never get to kiss her again, never get to smile into her neck or run his hand idly up and down her leg—that part is there, but it’s quieter. Because as much as he wants that, he wants far, far more for her to be okay. Nothing matters if she isn’t okay.

So Ben tucks her head back under his chin and lies in the dark with her a while longer, holding her until her breathing calms and her hands relax.

Eventually, when she’s calm, he pushes up on one elbow. Rey blinks up at him sleepily. “Get some sleep,” he whispers. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Carefully, trying not to jostle her too much, he starts to climb off the bed. A tug at his back stops him. He turns to see Rey reaching out, grasping the hem of his shirt. “Ben?” Her eyes are wide in the dim light. “Would you—please stay.” She swallows. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

It’s remarkable, all the different things she can do to his heart. Part of it so warmed that she wants his comfort. Part of it thinking of how he usually sleeps naked and how her naked body would feel against his. Part of it aching sharply at the thought that, just this once, he’ll get to hold her while they sleep. One time, before this is all behind them.

He crawls back onto the bed. Rey wastes no time settling back into his arms. She falls asleep before he does, snoring softly with one arm around his waist and the other tucked up between their chests, and Ben lies there for a long time, softly stroking her shoulder and watching the way her eyelids flutter with dreams.

  
  


———

  
  


Ben wakes up warm and comfortable and, predictably, hard. He can smell Rey’s minty shampoo, and he wakes remembering everything from last night.

He’s still on top of the covers and Rey is underneath them, but he’s plenty warm with her curled on her side with her back against his chest, his knees tucked behind hers. She’s like a little space heater. She’s holding his hand between both of hers with it under her chin, and she’s sleeping with her mouth open and drooling a little. It’s cute.

Yeah. Ben is a hundred percent in love with her.

He’s also grateful for the bed covers between his hips and Rey’s because he definitely has morning wood. He does his very best not to move an inch as he closes his eyes and breathes evenly, thinking about anything except the woman in his arms, until he starts to reluctantly soften. It’s not what he wants, but he knows he isn’t going to get what he wants, so it’s better not to freak her out if he can help it.

He’s startled out of his thoughts by a gurgling he both hears and feels under his arm. Rey’s brow furrows as her stomach makes the most outrageous noise he’s ever heard in his life. A small laugh escapes him, soft against her hair, and she stirs, turning her face towards him. “Are you laughing at me?”

Her voice is thick with sleep and he really, really wants to kiss her, morning breath be damned. Instead he says, “It sounds like a bear is living in your stomach.”

“I mean, probably.” She stretches her long legs, yawning enormously, before wriggling and turning over onto her other side, snuggling up against Ben’s chest. She peeks up at him with sleepy blinking eyes.

“We should get up,” he says, voice low. His hand is rubbing up and down her back.

Rey stares at him for a moment. “Probably,” she says, just as low. Then she heaves an enormous sigh and pushes herself up to sitting, swings her legs over the side of the bed, and heads off towards the bathroom.

Ben lets out a breath he didn’t quite realize he was holding.

By the time she makes it back out of the bathroom, Ben is in the kitchen, setting up the coffee maker. “Do you want to go out for breakfast? We could go to Pamela’s.” She shakes her head. "Pie for Breakfast?"

“No brunch crowds. I’m tired.”

“What are you feeling?” he asks. “I think I could make pancakes. Or I have some eggs and fruit.”

“Whatever is fine.”

He pauses and glances up at her. She’s leaning against the counter, biting a fingernail. The little crease in her forehead and the distance in her tone are two of her most obvious tells that something’s still bothering her.

“Here.” He hands her a couple pears. “Start slicing these up. I’m going to brush my teeth.”

He doesn’t miss the way her gaze falls to her hair tie on his wrist from last night.

After peeing and brushing his teeth, Ben stops for a moment, both hands on the sides of the sink, to stare himself down in the mirror _. It’s over now. And that’s fine. It’s what’s best for her. _

Ben returns to the kitchen to find Rey with her back to him, carefully slicing the pears into thin wedges. He can’t tell if she’s not wearing her pajama shorts or if they’re just really short, but all he sees below the hem of her sleep shirt are her bare legs. He swallows with a dry throat and joins her at the counter. “How do cinnamon pear pancakes sound?” he asks.

She shrugs one shoulder. “Never had them. You know I’m not picky.”

“Yeah, but I also know you especially swoon for especially good food.”

“Are these pancakes going to be especially good?”

“That’s the goal. We’ll have to find out.” She hasn’t looked up at him, and her face is still a little too distant, a little too serious. He bumps his hip against hers gently. “Rey. Come on.” She bites her lip and shakes her head. Ben sighs, runs a hand through his hair, and reaches up into the cabinet for the flour. “Look, we can call my parents first thing today and tell them before we even tell the others. I still swear to god, Rey, they’re not going to—”

“It’s not them.” Her hands have stilled, one holding half a pear and one holding the knife. She’s staring at the slices like they hold the answers to the universe.

Ben turns to her. When she still doesn’t look at him, he touches her elbow. “Then what is it?”

Rey swallows visibly. She sets down the knife and the pear and wipes her hands—he tries to get her the dish towel, but she wipes them on her shirt before he can get it—and finally turns to him. “I mean, they’re why I was crying last night,” she says. Her eyes don’t look so distant, now. There’s something burning in them, like they always look when she’s screwing up her determination and stirring up her courage. He’s always loved that look. “It did hurt. A lot. But that’s not what’s bothering me now.” She takes a deep breath. “And that’s not why I was sad to stop the ruse.”

Sometimes—not often, just ever so occasionally, with very, very few people, mostly only ever with Rey—sometimes Ben can tell with blazing clarity what’s passing between himself and her. Somewhere in his gut he _ feels _ it, knows on some base level that this is true. Rey is staring at him with that determination in her eyes and he knows what she’s going to say before she says it, and it makes his breath catch.

“It’s because of you.”

“Me,” he says, feeling winded.

Rey nods. “I wanted more time with you.”

It would be easy to deflect. To say “But you’ll still hang out with me all the time.” Or to say “What do you mean?”

But he doesn’t. Because he knows exactly what she means.

He lifts his hand and cups her cheek, his heart twinging at the way her eyelids flutter at his touch. “Don’t worry,” he whispers. “It’s real now for me, too.”

And the way her face softens, her eyes lighten, a smile blooms on her beautiful face—it makes him feel like he’s floating.

Rey reaches up and traces her fingers along his jawline, back into his hair where they come to rest. Shivers run down his back and something in his core tightens at the featherlight touch. Then she presses against his head and pulls him down to her as she lifts up on her toes and kisses him.

The mechanics are no different than any of the soft kisses they’ve shared in the past week. But it feels completely different.

Because Rey is relaxed and unhurried and sweet, kissing him like she’s savoring it. Because Ben doesn’t grope her ass for obnoxious show, but instead cradles her face, holding her gently to him like the wonderful, cherished thing she is.

He pulls back just a little, just for a second, because he wants to see her face.

Her cheeks are pink, her lips flushed, and her eyes blinking up at him are sweet and heavy.

Breathlessly, he kisses her again, falling back into her.

Ben loses track of time, kissing Rey in his kitchen in the pale morning light. He brushes her hair back from her face. She presses light, lingering kisses at the corner of his mouth, just below his eye, the tip of his nose. He nudges his fingers under her chin and tips up her face and brushes his thumb across her lower lip before he bends down to kiss her again. He doesn’t have words for how he feels, some new blend of safe and strong and vulnerable, for the way it feels to kiss Rey as long as he wants just because he can, for her to kiss him because she wants to, because she wants him.

When Rey pulls back, she holds his face in her hands and looks up at him with a tiny smile. “Take me back to bed?”

Ben bites his lip against the instinct to groan, blood rapidly rushing lower in his body. He grins at her, bends down, and in a second has hauled her up into his arms.

Rey laughs, bright and clear in the small kitchen, as his arms settle under her knees and across her back. “Are you serious?” she asks through her giggles, arms winding around his shoulders and face pressing into his neck.

“A thousand percent. Not all of that sappiness was for show.” And with her smile against his skin and his heart so, so full, Ben carries her into the bedroom and closes the door behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TA-DAAAAAA! I promised a HEA and here we are.
> 
> If you're not the biggest fan of smut, honestly you could probably stop reading now because this fic has a classic smut-in-the-last-chapter structure, and the plot is wrapped up pretty well here. We all know they're gonna be together, that's no surprise, haha. And the last chapter is pretty much just boning. (That being said, it's some fun smut and DARE I SAY it's really cute, so, y'know.)
> 
> P.S. Don't be afraid to come say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/nuanceismyjam), [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/nuanceismyjam), or [Tumblr](http://nuanceismyjam.tumblr.com/)! (Which I use in that order, in terms of frequency.)


	7. How about love, love, love, love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we come to the close. Thanks so much for coming along with me this week! It's definitely lifted my spirits in hard times, and I hope it has for you, too. And now we finally get to see these two dummies come together (lol) like we've wanted all along.
> 
> Be safe and well, friends!
> 
> And thank you as always to [crossingwinter](http://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter) for being such a peach. <3

Rey is not, in fact, wearing her pajama shorts, which Ben finally notices when he lays her back on the unmade bed and her shirt rides up her stomach. She grins, biting her lip, and watches the collage of desire, awe, and delight pass over his face. “They’re just black cotton panties, Ben.”

“Excuse me.” He bends down swiftly, hovering over her, and kisses her firmly. “They’re not ‘just’ anything.”

Rey hums happily against him, lifting her arms to loop around his neck as he settles down over her. One of his hands cups her face, fingers stroking into her hair. The other hand trails down her side, onto her hip, fingertips tracing the edge of her underwear. “Mm.” She turns her head and kisses his neck, just under his jaw, which makes him press his fingers harder. “You can, you know.”

“Hm?” He’s distracted, his kisses chasing her cheek, her temple.

Rey shifts under him, not missing the small groan he gives in response. “You can touch me.”

His chest shudders against hers with a sudden, low gasp.

When Ben lifts his head to look at her properly, his hair is in his eyes, and his eyes are dark and sweet and heavy with want, his lips parted. Not unlike how he looked last night, pinning her on the floor, insisting she take the bed.

Well. She’s here now, isn’t she.

He lowers to her and kisses her again, slowly, languid, heated. A hunger and a promise all at once. And then he’s gazing down at her again as his fingers skim down her belly and slip below the waistband of her underwear.

Rey hisses in a breath, her hands sliding down to his chest and skating around to press against his back, when his long, blunt fingers stroke down her slit. His brow furrows, his pupils blown wide, the motions of his hand gentle and easy. “You’re already wet,” he murmurs. He sounds amazed.

“Well,” she says, a bit breathlessly, because the slow strokes of his fingers are winding up tension in her core, “yeah.”

For me, he doesn’t say.

But she sees it in his eyes. So she pulls him down to her. “For you,” she whispers, her lips brushing his; and then she kisses him.

There’s nothing gentle and easy in her kiss. It’s open and hungry, it’s biting at his lower lip, it’s canting her hips up into his hand. Ben groans into her mouth, his tongue swiping eagerly against hers, and he teases at her entrance with one fingertip. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

“I’m wet,” she mumbles against his lips, “not ready.” She wiggles under him, grinning even as she gasps her pleasure when his fingertips circle her clit lightly. “I mean, _ I  _ am. But I think— _ yes _ , just like that—I think my vagina knows how big you are. Wants time to get ready.”

He laughs a huff of a laugh against her throat, then presses his tongue against her pulse, which makes her shiver. “And how do you know how big I am.”

“An educated guess.” Her fingernails dig into his shoulders as he sucks at her throat. “Based on your proportions.” Her mouth falls open and her head falls back as Ben presses one finger inside her, pumping in and out in long strokes. “And—and your hard-on right now.”

“Ah, you can feel that?” His voice is so low, rumbling in his chest and doing delicious things to her cunt as he shifts his weight so he can press the heel of his hand against her clit even as he keeps working his finger in her.

“Mm. Yes.”

Ben nips at her collarbone, then peeks up at her. Rey forces herself to focus through the fuzzy pleasure filling her head and looks down at him. He looks sweet, through the heaviness in his gaze, looking up at her like this. “Tell me?” His voice is almost small, suddenly, and awfully shy for a man whose middle finger is currently buried in her vagina. “Tell me what you feel.”

Rey brushes his hair back from his forehead. She starts to answer but stops with a thin “ _ god— _ ” as a fresh wave of pleasure sparks through her nerves. “Your cock,” she whispers, suddenly feeling a little shy herself. But she makes herself hold his gaze. “I can feel your cock against my thigh.”

“How does it feel?”

“Big. Heavy. Hard.” She licks her lips. “I want it. I want you.”

Ben’s eyes glaze over. He surges up and kisses her. “Say it again,” he murmurs against her mouth.

“I want you.” She’s drawn up one knee, her thigh pressing against his hip, her leg hooked around his. Her hands run down his back and up again. “I want you, Ben, fuck I want you—not just—” He slips in a second finger and crooks them against the front of her walls, and she moans, eyelids fluttering. “Not just—not just in bed. All the time. You. I want to—”

“Be my girlfriend.” God, she’s never heard his voice like this, sweet and desperate and rough with need. “Please, Rey, fuck, please—”

It’s odd, for him to be begging her, when he’s the one currently working her half-mad and nearly to orgasm. “Yes,” she gasps. “Yes, Ben.”

“Yes what.”

“Yes, I’m your girlfriend. That’s— _ ah _ —that’s what I want—”

He pulls his hand free of her underwear and takes her face in his hands, kissing her again. Rey feels her own wetness smear against her temple from his fingers, but she doesn’t fucking care because Ben is her boyfriend for real, now, and she’s in his bed and he wants her as much as she wants him and god, if she got any happier—

When Ben pulls back, she doesn’t have words for the look in his eyes. “I want to—make love with you.” He stumbles over the words and blushes, and Rey grins, stroking his cheek, her heart warmed by the sweetness of it. “But first, please—fuck, Rey, please let me eat you out.”

She almost laughs, startled by the earnestness of it. “Ben?” His face is so open, so ready for her. “You don’t have to beg.”

  
  
  


All the obnoxious making out and sappy lingering gazes in the world couldn’t possibly have prepared Ben for the reality of Rey, warm and wanting and pliant, squirming underneath him when he fingers her. For the way her pulse beats so quick and so hard under his lips and tongue when he lingers at her throat. For the sounds she makes—fuck, the sounds she makes—when he makes her feel good.

Nothing could have prepared him for when he pulls down those fucking adorable little black panties.

The way she looks. The way she feels under his hands. The way she smells as he leans in and presses his lips softly against her, just for a moment, just to breathe her in and feel her.

“Ben,” she whispers.

And he lifts her thighs up over his shoulders, looks up at her, and licks the full length of her slit.

Her thighs shiver on either side of his head and she bites her lip, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. When Ben presses his mouth flush against her, tongue delving inside to taste the heat of her, she gasps, hands fisting in the sheets and head falling back.

So Ben gets to work.

He chases her taste inside her, groaning against her in a way that makes her hips writhe under his hands. He laps up the center of her and works short, firm strokes against the sensitive bud at the top of her cunt, making her moan his name. As her hands find his, fingers grasping hard at his, he wraps his lips around her, sucking at her clit as he lathes his tongue along her folds, and she swears and spasms beneath him.

It’s blissful and heady and every fucking thing he’s ever wanted, the way she tastes, the way she feels, the way he gets lost in her. There’s nothing in the world but her under his relentless, worshiping tongue until she sobs his name and bucks against his mouth and comes.

Ben feels dizzy as he goes still. His mouth is still against her cunt, and he licks gently at her, just small movements to ride her through her aftershocks. Rey’s hands find his hair, stroking through it. When he looks up, her chest is heaving under her shirt, and he’s consumed with regret that he didn’t pull the damn thing off her first.

So he crawls up the bed to settle over her. Dazed, Rey blinks heavily up at him and takes his face in her hands, pulling him down to kiss her. If the taste of herself bothers her, she sure doesn’t let on; she kisses him a little sloppily at first, then firm and eager, and she tugs at his t-shirt.

Ben grins against her mouth. “Oh. Are you insatiable, Rey?”

“For you? You have no idea.” She’s still breathless, eyes still a little glassy, body still a little limp, but she rucks his shirt up his sides. “Off. Get this thing off.”

He sits up, straddling over her, and tugs off his shirt, tossing it somewhere. He doesn’t bother feeling guilty at the swell of pride when her mouth falls open, her gaze roaming over his chest and stomach. Rey pushes herself up on one elbow, grabbing at his hip, and full-on licks his abs.

Ben laughs so hard he falls backwards onto the bed.

Rey chases him, grinning, straddling over him now. “This is insane. You’re insane. Look at you.”

“I’m always at the gym, Rey, what the fuck did you expect.”

“ _ God. _ ” She presses her hands against his stomach and runs them up to his chest. He catches one, brings it to his mouth, kisses her fingertips, and her eyes go so soft when he does that he never wants to stop. She smiles, and his heart absolutely fucking melts.

Rey bends down and kisses him, slow and sweet. With her finally still, Ben grabs the hem of her t-shirt and tugs it up over her head, letting it fall behind him on the floor. And she’s—

He grabs her hips, pushing her up to sit above him again. Her lips are parted, her hair is a mess, and her beautiful, perfect tits are just—there, so perfect, so sweet like every inch of her.

“I fucking love you,” he whispers.

A grin breaks across her face, so wide and bright and effervescent. “I love you, too.” And she moves back, pulls down his boxers, and lowers her head.

“Whoa, whoa, no—” Ben reaches down and hauls her back up to him, hugging her to his chest.

“Jesus, Ben, I just want to—”

“I know what you want to do.” He’s breathing hard, shifting her hair. “And I would very fucking much like for you to do it. But I’ll last about two seconds if you do, so—”

She laughs against his neck. “Okay.” Then she goes a bit still, and then Ben realizes she’s working her hand down between them to wrap around his cock. He sucks in a sharp breath when her fingers close around him. “Oh. Okay. I promise I won’t suck it yet, but you have to let me look at this.”

And she’s sitting back again, his hands trailing down her sides and then down her thighs, and she’s looking down at him with something close to wonder as she slowly pumps him in a loose grip. Ben bites the inside of his cheek and tries to control his breathing as he watches her working him. “You’re beautiful,” she says, like she didn’t mean to say it, and she blushes.

Ben feels himself flush, too. “That’s my line,” he mumbles; and Rey glances up at him and smiles.

She comes back up to kiss him. His hands find her hips, guiding her over him. “Do I need to grab a condom?” he murmurs against her lips. “I have two left from when you made me jerk it into one.”

Rey laughs so loud it hurts his ears. His cock bumps up against her cunt, which— _ fuck,  _ she’s wet and warm. “I have an IUD,” she manages through her giggles. “And I’m clean. So if you are—”

“I am.”

She smiles down at him, holding his face in her hands, her thumbs stroking his cheekbones. “You know,” she says, her voice a little smaller, “I’ve never…” Shifting her weight, she settles down onto him, rolling her hips against his. She slides along the length of him and Ben makes a low, sharp sound, his fingers digging into her hips. “I’ve always used condoms before,” she says. “Just in case. But it’s you. So you can be—” She takes a deep breath and then, devastatingly sweetly, kisses his nose. “I’d like it. If you were the first person to come inside me, all the way.”

Ben closes his eyes. He swallows. He holds her still and slowly turns his head to kiss her cheek.

When he opens his eyes, she’s peering down at him curiously.

“I really fucking love you,” he murmurs, and he feels her smiling into his kiss when he presses inside her.

  
  
  
  


Rey slides down and down and  _ down,  _ breathing raggedly against Ben’s mouth, feeling the stretch, the pinch giving way to blissful fullness when he finally slips home inside her. She kisses him again, messy and half-smiling, as she starts to roll her hips.

“Oh, _ fuck,  _ Rey.” Ben’s head falls back, exposing the long line of his throat, which Rey loves—she falls to it, dropping open-mouthed kisses along it, feeling his breath rasping and his pulse pounding under her lips.

He feels so good, so fucking good, she’s absolutely full of him and he feels amazing. Rey kisses the hollow of his throat and then pushes herself up, sitting over him.

It’s different, like this. Her thighs are spread, falling around his hips. He’s sprawled beneath her, hair a mess and eyes glazed over as he gazes up at her. If she looks down, she can see how he disappears inside her, how he’s slick with her when she lifts her hips to let him slide back out. It sends a fresh wave of arousal rushing in her veins, and Rey braces her hands on his chest and starts to ride him for real.

And this is different, too. His eyes go dark, burning back at her. His hands grasp her hips as he starts thrusting up into her, matching her rhythm. His cock strikes into her and Rey cries out. It’s fucking—it’s delicious, it’s stars behind her eyes when he hits the front of her walls like that, “ _ Fuck, Ben— _ ”

“Come on, sweetheart.” His chest heaves under her hands, his gaze burns so hot when he watches her face, watches her cunt taking him. Rey’s blood is rushing and her skin is sparking and he presses his thumb against her clit, holding her in place now as he thrusts up into her. “So beautiful—so good—fuck, you feel so good—”

“Yes—” She can feel herself clenching, pleasure jolting from her center up through her whole goddamned body. “Please—”

“Tell me,” he rasps. “Tell me how it feels.”

“So good.” She hardly recognizes her voice. Her head falls forward, small cries escaping her between words. “Fuck, Ben, you feel so good, I feel—so full—”

“Come for me, Rey, please please come—”

And maybe it’s his thumb circling against her, or maybe it’s his cock buried inside her, or the pleading, needful tone in his voice or how gorgeous he looks splayed out beneath her, or all of it. Rey comes, hard, with a broken cry that peaks off into silence as her body washes warm and pulsing and rushing, a flood of pleasure under her skin that weakens her arms.

She’s lying against Ben’s chest, now. He’s holding her so tight against him, one hand still grasping her hip and the other tangling in her hair, his face pressed into the crook of her neck as he pistons his hips up into her. Rey digs her fingers into his shoulders, loses time in the bliss of Ben inside her. She rocks her hips back against his, like instinct, and the sounds he makes when she does—

“So good,” she gasps against his neck. “You feel so good, Ben—please—please come inside me.”

“ _ God,  _ Rey—”

“I want to feel it.” She sinks her teeth into his neck, just lightly, but she feels him pound into her a little harder. “I want to feel you—fill me up—”

—and his rhythm falters as he swears again, and Rey lifts her hands to stroke into his hair and tug just a little as her body shivers warm—and Ben grunts and shudders underneath her and something warm fills her, even though she thought she was already full to the brim.

They both breathe hard, chest to chest. Rey can feel his cock twitch inside her, a little more spend leaking out into her. Her face is still turned against his neck. She presses a few slow, soft kisses just below his ear as his hand in her hair begins to smooth it and his hand on her hip begins to stroke softly up and down her back.

“Wow,” she whispers.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

They lie quietly, hearts beating together, until she feels him softening inside her. Then she rolls off him onto her side, pulling him along with her until he’s half lying on top of her. She winds her arms around him, his head resting on her shoulder, and sighs into his hair. “We should’ve done that a long time ago.”

Ben gathers her in his arms—and god, it makes her feel so warm and safe, being in his strong arms—and peeks up at her. “How long have you—wanted to?”

“Wanted you?” She brushes his hair back from his face and kisses his forehead and thinks. “I’m honestly not sure. I’ve loved you so much for so long that loving you this way kind of… crept up on me. I’ve been so committed to the no-dating thing that I didn’t let myself even… even consider you this way.”

“Until we started faking it?”

“I think so.” She likes the way this feels, his warm, heavy body grounding hers. “And it felt more right than anything ever has.”

He’s quiet for a few moments. Then he murmurs against her chest, “I fell in love with you when we were first friends.”

Her heart squeezes. She cups his face, makes him look up at her, searches his eyes. “Ben, not—not all this time—”

“No, it’s okay.” He tightens his arms around her. “I knew it wasn’t an option. Since you didn’t date. I love you as you, Rey. I wanted you in my life however you wanted to be. So I eventually… moved on.” His eyes are soft and honest. “But the more we pretended…”

“The more it came back?”

“Hell, maybe it never left and I was kidding myself.” His fingers trace patterns along her ribcage. “I just never wanted to push you away. Not for anything.”

Rey smiles. “You never could, dumbass.”

“I know.” And he kisses her chest, so sweetly it makes her heart ache.

They lie together in silence for a while, snuggling and lingering in each other’s touch. Eventually Ben tugs the blankets around enough to cover them, even though their heads are at the foot of the bed.

Warm and soft under the blankets, they end up both on their sides, cuddling face-to-face. And Rey touches his lips and murmurs, “I’m giving it up, you know.”

“Hm?”

“My no-dating rule.” She leans in and gives him a quick peck; his hand comes to the back of her neck and he holds her there for a few more short, sweet kisses. “You’re the one person I know I don’t have to be scared of losing. So I have every intention of dating the hell out of you.”

“Good.” And then he freezes, eyes widening.

“What? What’s wrong?” He groans, eyes falling shut. “Ben, what—”

“You know what this means.”

“What?”

“ _ Poe was right. _ ”

The laugh that escapes her is loud and clear and a little hysterical. It doesn’t help when Ben grins and tickles his fingers up her sides, making her shriek and writhe, before pulling her in a bear hug against his chest as she practically cackles. “No—no tickling—oh my god—”

She feels him grin against her neck.

Settling herself down, Rey kisses him again, letting her hands rest on his chest. “I’m dreading telling them.”

“Maybe we don’t. They already think we’ve been dating for a week.”

“I suppose that’s true. Although I hate them to think we’re really that obnoxious.”

“I also don’t want to hear the chorus of I-told-you-so’s.” Ben mouths at the corner of her jaw, right under her ear, which makes her shiver in a good way. “Maybe we can tell them at our wedding. Fun surprise.”

And it makes her giggle, not bolt for the door. Which is a fucking miracle. But then, pretty much everything about Ben has been a miracle in her life.

So Rey smiles and kisses his nose and says, “I believe you promised me pancakes.”

“I did.” Ben smiles back at her. “And I intend to keep my promises.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. Don't be afraid to come say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/nuanceismyjam), [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/nuanceismyjam), or [Tumblr](http://nuanceismyjam.tumblr.com/)! (Which I use in that order, in terms of frequency.)

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. Don't be afraid to come say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/nuanceismyjam), [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/nuanceismyjam), or [Tumblr](http://nuanceismyjam.tumblr.com/)! (Which I use in that order, in terms of frequency.)


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